What’s your earliest memory of each other?

Obinna: We met at a church event in July 2022. 

I wasn’t supposed to be there. During a visit to my mum, she practically dragged me to help her out in her small family church. So I was setting up chairs when Emem came in with her family. She was with her sister, and they were joking about something. She had this vibe—confident, but still a bit shy. 

Later, I found out she lived near my mum’s shop. We started chatting whenever I passed by the shop every other week or so, and eventually, it turned into longer conversations.

Emem: I was waiting outside his mum’s shop on the day we really talked for the first time. I was bored, scrolling through my phone, and he just showed up. He was talking to our mums about some local council thing—I barely paid attention. But after a while, he started showing up more, and we’d talk casually. 

About what?

Emem: At first, I thought he was just being polite, you know, those older guys that are nice but never look your way. But he started asking about me—like what I wanted to do after school, what I was passionate about. He wasn’t pushy either, just…interested.

Obinna: I remember Lagos was in that usual rainy season mess. I’d stop by whenever I was in the area, and we’d talk about the weather and how it’ll affect so many things—traffic, electricity, laundry. 

By the end of the year, we were seeing each other more often.

How did you feel about this, Emem?

Emem: I was still 18, entering into my second year at uni. I wasn’t even thinking of him in that way when we started talking. But he wasn’t playing games. By the time I turned 19, it just felt right to be together, even though I knew some people wouldn’t get it.

Tell me how you got together

Obinna: We got into a routine. I started picking her up from school whenever I could. We’d go for lunch or just drive around town. Lagos traffic was a blessing in disguise—the long car rides gave us time to bond without interruptions. And I started inviting her over to my place just to hang out, watch movies or talk. Nothing serious at first, just enjoying each other’s company.

Emem: He’d sometimes drive me and my sister home from school. Eventually, he started picking me up more often, especially on weekends. I wasn’t really going out much before that, but with him, I felt like I could experience more. 

We didn’t want people getting the wrong idea, especially early on, so we kept it low-key. But as we got more comfortable, it became more open.

What wrong idea did you think people would get?

Obinna: The obvious one—people would assume I was taking advantage of her because of our age difference. Once people see a younger girl with an older guy, the first thing they think is, “He’s grooming her” or “She’s too young to know what she’s doing.” They don’t take the time to understand that it’s not like that with us. 

Emem: My friends, especially. They’re quick to judge things like that, calling it sugar daddy vibes or whatever. But I know what I want. From the beginning, I knew I liked being with him. It’s always easy to label something “wrong” just because of that holier than thou attitude.

Did you have your parents’ approval to go out with him so often?

Emem: Not exactly. I knew they’d have their concerns about me dating an older guy, especially since I was still in school. So I just told them I was hanging out with a “friend,” which was true to some extent.

Obinna: I wasn’t happy she had to sneak around for us to spend quality time together. But then, I know she’s still young. I get why she felt she had to protect what we had, just like me. It’s not like she was lying about her feelings; she genuinely likes spending time with me. 

If anything, it made me want to be more supportive and prove that we could make this work, regardless of how others viewed it.

How did you know for sure that you liked each other?

Obinna: I’ve been with women my age, but it always felt like we were competing—like we were both bringing too much baggage. There was something about Emem that clicked on a deeper level; it felt easier. It wasn’t instant, but I liked that she wasn’t jaded yet, if I’m being honest. She was still figuring things out. She wasn’t trying to prove anything. 

I knew I liked her when I found myself genuinely looking forward to our conversations, not just the physical stuff. There was a simplicity to being with her that I hadn’t felt in a while.

Emem: I knew because I felt safe with him. I’ve never felt even a dot of bad vibes or like I’m putting myself in danger. Most guys my age just want to play games, and I was tired of that. He didn’t make me feel like I had to impress him or act older than I was. I don’t feel like just some young girl he’s using for fun. 

We talk about my plans, my frustrations with school, and he’d give me advice that makes sense. I liked that he wasn’t rushing anything and let me set the pace. That’s how I knew it was real—he respected me.

So you didn’t tell anyone at all about the relationship?

Obinna: Not at first. Even my own friends—guys who have no business judging—would’ve had something to say about it. And I was right. 

I didn’t want to deal with unnecessary comments before we even knew where the relationship was heading. Eventually, though, I told one of my cousins, and she was surprisingly cool with it. That gave me the confidence to slowly open up to others.

Emem: I didn’t tell my friends at first. I just said I was talking to someone, but I didn’t give too many details. It was only a few weeks after we became official that I told my best friend. And she asked me, “What could you two possibly have in common?” But when I explained that I felt more comfortable with him than with any guy my age, she kind of backed off. 

My family found out later when they noticed I was spending a lot more time with him. I was 20, and I think that’s why my mum, surprisingly, didn’t react badly. She was more concerned about whether I was happy than about the age gap.

Did she know you’d been talking since you were 18?

Emem: No. She still doesn’t.

Okay. So how did the relationship progress after this?

Obinna: Earlier this year, we stopped hiding. But the real turning point came when she got pregnant in May. That changed everything. Suddenly, what was just between us became everyone else’s business. It solidified things for me—I knew I wanted her in my life long-term.

Emem: We got more serious when I occasionally started staying over at his place, helping him with stuff and spending weekends together. By the time I found out I was pregnant, I already felt secure in our relationship, but I was still scared. When I told him, he was calm about it, even more than I expected. 

We talked about the future, and he made it clear he wanted to take care of me and the baby. That’s when I knew he wasn’t playing. He wants to marry me now, and honestly, I’m ready for it. People will always talk, but I’m happy with him.

What’s been the reaction to the pregnancy and marriage talks?

Obinna: My parents are still warming up to the idea, and a few relatives have made comments about me “rushing things”. Some even suggested that I was being irresponsible, like I purposely got her pregnant to trap her. But the truth is, I’m not marrying her just because she’s pregnant—I actually love her. Is that so bad? I wish we didn’t always have to prove our relationship is pure.

Emem: My friends freaked out when they found out. I’m four months in now and some of them have stopped talking to me altogether. My mum actually discovered it before me. She was shocked at first, but she’s supportive now. She’s been telling me to focus on building my life with Obinna and ignore the noise. 

The most hurtful reactions have been from strangers. People look at me like I’m some naive girl who doesn’t know what she’s doing, but they don’t understand us.

And how are you balancing everything with school?

Emem: It’s no joke. I’m in my third year, so classes have been intense, but Obinna is really supportive. He helps me study and reminds me to take breaks. When I feel overwhelmed, he encourages me to focus on my health first, which I appreciate. 

I’m excited about being a mum. That keeps me motivated.

Obinna: She’s currently on break, but when school was in session, you wouldn’t even know she was pregnant. We’d use everything from apps to planners to keep track of her assignments and doctor’s appointments. But we’ve agreed to defer her final year for our peace of mind.

Emem: My elder sister has been really supportive as well. It’s just the two of us, and I’m so happy that we’re still so close.

Neat. So what was your first major fight about?

Obinna: We don’t really fight. The only one I can think of is two months ago when I’d put money together to take her away to celebrate our anniversary. But Emem wanted us to spend it all on the baby—clothes, a crib, stuff like that. I felt like she was getting ahead of herself since she was just over two months gone. We had an argument about it for days.

Emem: I thought we should be preparing for the future, not just focusing on having fun. It was the first time I really questioned if we were on the same page, and I cried and cried. But we talked it out. We ended up going shopping for the cot but still having a nice dinner on our anniversary.

It didn’t feel like a fight, though.

Got it

Obinna: That’s how I know I want to marry her. 

In our culture, there’s a lot of stigma attached to having a child out of wedlock, and I don’t want that for Emem or our baby. It’s important to me that we do things the right way, even though everyone’s interpretation of that is different. I believe in being a family, and I want to give our child a sense of stability.

Emem: My mum has been dropping hints about how important it is to her, so that’s in the back of our minds.

So what’s the plan?

Obinna: The plan is to propose soon, ideally before the baby arrives. I want to do it in a way that feels special, not rushed at all. I’ve been looking at rings. I want it to reflect her personality, something unique. Once I propose, we’ll start planning the wedding. 

Emem: I’m excited about it. I’m secretly hoping it’ll be a cute proposal I can brag about to my friends! For the wedding, I don’t need anything extravagant, not in this economy. I just want us to have enough to create a home filled with love and support, and marrying him is a big part of that.

Does it still feel like you’re setting the pace, Emem?

Emem: Honestly, yes, it does. I’m excited about becoming a mum and marrying Obinna, and I sometimes feel like I’m the one driving the relationship forward. I’m the one who’s pregnant, and that changes a lot! I’m thinking about our future, how we’ll manage the baby, and making sure we’re both on the same page. 

Obinna: I worry she feels overwhelmed with everything, and that’s the last thing I want.

In what way?

Obinna: I just wish she’d relax a little, knowing I’ll support her. It’s a learning curve for both of us, but I believe we’ll find our way as we go.

Emem: I see Obinna stepping up all the time, and it gives me hope that we’re in this together, but I still catch myself thinking about things I want to make sure happen, like expanding my crochet business and creating a loving home for our child.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your Love Life?

Obinna: 8. There are challenges, like dealing with the stresses of an unplanned pregnancy. But overall, I believe in what we have.

Emem: I agree with 8. I know it might sound crazy given our age difference and the baby on the way, but I genuinely feel loved and supported by Obinna. I think once we’re married and start our life as a family, that score might just go up.

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What’s your earliest memory of each other?

Jamal: I first saw her at a party—one of those loud, flashy ones in Lekki in 2022. I wasn’t really into all that stuff, but my boys dragged me there. She was wearing this neon green outfit that just stood out in the crowd. I remember thinking she was way too cool for me. I didn’t talk to her that night, but I stalked her Instagram for days after.  

Tomi: Funny enough, I don’t even remember seeing him at that party. I only knew him from the DMs he sent after. I wasn’t going to reply at first because, you know, typical Lagos guys just want vibes. But he asked me what I thought about one weird, deep quote I posted. It wasn’t the usual “hi dear” stuff. I thought, “Maybe he’s not like the others.”

I’m guessing he proved you right?

Tomi: In some ways, yeah. 

He wasn’t the typical guy I was used to. He wasn’t all about popping bottles or showing off. I mean, he did some of that at first, but deep down, he had this soft side, always asking questions about life and meaning. But it wasn’t all perfect; there were moments he’d still act like the Lagos boy—ghost me for a few days and then come back like nothing happened.  

Jamal: Okay, to be fair, I was figuring myself out back then. I didn’t want to mess it up, but I also didn’t know how to be fully honest with her at the start. Lagos dating is a game, you know? You’re either playing or getting played. 

But with her, I had to stop playing and start being real.

How did you transition to “real”?

Jamal: That was like two years ago. Feels longer though, with everything that’s happened since. We started off just chatting and hanging out, nothing too deep. But by the end of that year, things started getting serious.

Tomi: Yeah, it was around December 2022 when we really clicked. I remember it was the “Detty December” period—people were going crazy with parties, but we were chilling, just talking about life, God, and everything in between. It was the first time I actually felt like a relationship could be more than just “vibes” and drama.

Were you both religious before that?

Tomi: No. I mean, I grew up in a Christian home, but I wasn’t serious about it. Church was just something I did on Sundays to make my mum happy. 

At that time, I wasn’t even thinking about God like that. I was more into finding myself, trying to live my best life, you know? Like most of our generation, I was questioning everything—including religion.

Jamal: My family is Muslim, but I wasn’t deep into it. Religion felt like something our parents’ generation cared about, not ours. I used to think, “What’s the point?” I was more focused on hustling, trying to secure the bag. But after a while, everything started to feel empty. I was partying, making money, but it wasn’t hitting like I thought it would. 

When we got closer, we started having these deep conversations about faith and what it all means. It wasn’t planned; it just kind of happened.

Is that how the relationship started?

Tomi: Honestly, those conversations changed everything. We’d talk for hours, late into the night. At first, it was just about random stuff—life, why people do the things they do, Lagos madness. Then, somehow, it shifted to deeper questions about purpose and spirituality. 

I didn’t expect it, but those talks made me see Jamal in a different light. It wasn’t just about the attraction anymore; it was like we were building something more meaningful together.

Jamal: Yeah, those convos are what made me realise she wasn’t just another girl. We were both going through a phase of questioning everything and instead of drifting apart like a lot of people do when it gets that real, we got closer. 

Tell me how that happened

Jamal: I remember one night we were sitting in a lounge at the mall. After we’d had this heavy talk about the future, she just looked at me and said, “Do you even believe in anything?” That hit me. We were connecting on a spiritual level, which is wild because I never thought I’d be that guy.

Tomi: It wasn’t like we were “religious” overnight or anything, but those conversations led us to start exploring faith together. And honestly, it was part of what sealed the relationship. I didn’t just want a relationship that was all vibes or built on physical stuff. I wanted someone who was on the same wavelength as me, someone I could grow with spiritually.

So when did you become official?

Jamal: Man, becoming official was messy at first. We’d been hanging out for months, and I knew she wanted to make it official, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready. I was still one foot in, one foot out. But after one argument where she basically told me she couldn’t keep doing this “situationship”, I knew I had to step up or risk losing her. So, I asked her out properly. We had a real conversation where I told her I wanted to be with her, no games.

Tomi: Yeah, we had been in this grey zone for months, and it was frustrating. One day after we’d had a great weekend together, I straight-up asked him where this was going. I was tired of playing cool and acting like I didn’t care about a title. I remember being ready to walk away if he didn’t want something serious, but he surprised me. He finally said he wanted to be with me officially.

When did you realise you loved each other?

Jamal: When she called me out on my nonsense and didn’t let me off the hook. 

I had a habit of disappearing when things got too serious—I’d just ghost for a bit. One time, I went MIA for like a week, and when I finally reached out, she didn’t just take me back. She told me straight up, “If you’re serious about this, you need to act like it.” No one had ever held me accountable like that before. It wasn’t just love, it was respect.

Tomi: For me, it wasn’t one big moment; it was little things adding up. 

Like, he’d stay up late talking to me about stuff that wasn’t even his vibe, just to understand me better. Or when he started randomly praying for me. One day, I was having the worst day, and instead of just being like, “Sorry babe, it’ll get better,” he actually prayed with me. I don’t know if that sounds cheesy, but that was real for me. I’d never had someone care for my soul like that. That’s when I knew it wasn’t just infatuation—it was something deeper.

Was this before or after things became official?

Tomi: It was after we became official. By then, I think we both knew we were onto something deeper, but I didn’t fully realise I loved him until we’d already put labels on it. 

We made things official around mid-2023. I remember because it was after some serious back and forth. You know how Lagos dating can be—everyone’s afraid of getting played, so we were both a bit hesitant at first.

Jamal: The moment she called me out for ghosting and held me accountable was a couple of months in. We had the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing going, but that’s when I knew it wasn’t just a title or a phase. Before that, we were just figuring each other out and trying to see if we could trust the situation.

Got it. So what was the relationship like once you got serious?

Tomi: We were both going through different stuff—relationship issues, career stress, just trying to figure out life. And we both felt like something was missing. 

So I suggested we start going to church, but not just because it’s what our parents did. I wanted to see if there was something deeper for us. We started going together, and for the first time, I wasn’t just going through the motions.

Jamal: I wasn’t really on that level at first. I went to church a few times just to make her happy, but eventually, I started feeling like maybe this was what I needed too. 

Lagos life has a way of making you feel like you’re chasing stuff that doesn’t matter—money, parties, whatever. It’s all a distraction. But when we started talking about God, praying together, and going to church, I realised I was tired of pretending like I had it all figured out. It was less about religion and more about finding something real, something that could give our relationship meaning beyond just us.

Did you feel like you needed to find God to be together?

Tomi: It was more about finding a purpose together. And I think doing it together made it even more special. We held each other accountable and grew spiritually in ways I didn’t even think were possible before.

Jamal: I wouldn’t say we needed to find God to be together, but it felt like the missing piece. Before, our relationship was good, but it was like we were coasting: Having fun, going out, doing what couples do. But after a while, it felt shallow. We started questioning if there was more to it. 

Finding God gave us a deeper foundation. It made us think about what we wanted long-term, not just for ourselves but for the relationship.

And what did you discover?

Tomi: We could’ve kept going without bringing faith into it, but honestly, I don’t think we would’ve lasted. The relationship was good, but along the way, I realised I wanted to grow with someone spiritually, too. 

Jamal: I think God helped us realise we didn’t just want to be another couple with good vibes but no depth. It made us more intentional, more grounded. So, in a way, finding God together felt necessary for us to really thrive as a couple.

Did it change anything about you as individuals?

Tomi: Yes. I didn’t know how much until everyone noticed and mentioned it to me. 

I was always the “let’s go out, let’s have fun” type, so when I started skipping events or saying, “I’m going to church,” my friends were like, “Tomi, are you okay?” They didn’t understand it at first. I lost a few friends who thought I was trying to be holier-than-thou, but the real ones stayed. My mum was happy, though. She’d been praying for me to get serious about God for years, so she saw this as an answer to her prayers. And she loves Jamal for it.

Jamal: My friends clowned me at first. I’d say I couldn’t come out because I had Bible study, and they’d be like, “Omo, Jamal has joined the ‘church boys’ now.” It was jokes for them, but after a while, they noticed I was serious about it. Some respected it, some didn’t. 

As for my family, it’s mixed. My dad was confused because we’re a Muslim family, so he didn’t get why I was going to church. My mum was more chill about it—she just wanted me to be at peace. It took time for them to understand it wasn’t just a phase.

So, what’s a “godly” relationship really like in your experience?

Tomi: A “godly” relationship isn’t perfect, first of all. People think because you’re trying to do things God’s way, everything’s smooth, but nah. We still argue, and we still get annoyed with each other. The difference is, we don’t walk away from tough conversations. We’ve learnt to check our pride at the door and pray through the challenges. 

That’s a huge shift from my past relationships, where I’d bounce if things got too hard. Now, I’m more committed to working things out because I know there’s something bigger holding us together.

Jamal: Yeah, in my past relationships, if it’s working, it’s working, and when it stops working, you move on. There wasn’t any real purpose beyond enjoying the moment. 

But with Tomi, we’re not just dating for dating’s sake. We see this as something that could lead to marriage, so we’re more intentional. We try to apply what we learn in church or from the Bible. For example, forgiveness is big for us. I used to hold grudges for days, but now, we don’t let things fester. We pray, we talk it out, and move on.

That’s a good plus

Tomi: And being “godly” also means setting boundaries that most people in our generation might not get. 

We don’t have sex, and that’s something that shocks a lot of people. They think we’re being unrealistic or “too deep,” but it’s a choice we made because we believe it keeps our relationship focused on the right things. In a time when everything is so physical, being intentional about emotional and spiritual connection first makes us different.

Jamal: We’re not trying to impress anyone. And honestly, that’s freeing. We’re focused on growth. It’s a different vibe from what most people our age are doing, but it’s working for us.

Neat. How do you keep the faith strong?

Tomi: By making it a priority in our relationship, not just something we do on Sundays. We pray together almost every day—sometimes it’s a long prayer, sometimes it’s just a quick, “God, help us today.” But we make sure we stay connected spiritually. We also talk about our faith a lot—what we’re struggling with, what we’re learning, how we’re growing. It keeps us accountable.

Jamal: Yeah, the prayer thing has been huge for us. It wasn’t natural for me at first, but now, I can’t imagine our relationship without it. And we attend a church where we actually connect with the messages and people. We do Bible studies together, too, and we have debates about different topics. 

It’s not always easy because we’re still young, and Lagos has a lot of distractions, but we try to stay focused on what matters.

Like what?

Tomi: Setting boundaries that align with our faith. As I said earlier, we’ve chosen to wait until marriage to have sex, and that decision keeps us focused on building a solid connection instead of being driven by physical attraction. 

Jamal: And we remind each other why we’re doing this. There are days when we get tired or frustrated, and that’s when we have to refocus. Whether it’s through prayer, reading devotionals, or just talking about our faith, we make sure to keep God in the centre. It’s not always perfect, but we know the foundation we’re trying to build.

How do you handle temptation, if any?

Jamal: Honestly, temptation is real, especially since everyone’s just doing whatever they want. There’s always going to be someone or something trying to pull you away from what you’ve committed to, whether it’s other people, social media, or even just the culture. 

But I don’t put myself in situations that will make me act out. If I know going out late to certain places with certain people will mess with my head, I avoid it.

Tomi: I’ve had to cut off some friends or situations that weren’t healthy for my faith or our relationship. It’s not easy because people don’t always get it—they think you’re trying to be better than them or that you’ve “changed too much”. But it’s about knowing what I’m working towards. I keep my circle tight and surround myself with people who support our choices, not question them.

That’s important 

Jamal: And let’s be real, the sexual temptation is the hardest part. We decided to wait, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. We’re human. 

So we’ve put boundaries in place—like, we don’t spend the night at each other’s places, and we try to limit being in situations where it’s just us in a closed space, especially late at night. That helps keep us accountable. It’s not foolproof, but it works most of the time.

Tomi: Also, when we do feel tempted, we talk about it. We don’t pretend we’re not struggling or act like we’ve got it all figured out.

Jamal: At the end of the day, it’s about discipline. You can’t rely on willpower alone. That’s where the faith comes in—it gives us strength to stay on track, even when it’s tough.

Got it. What was your first major fight about?

Tomi: It’s linked to what Jamal mentioned earlier. It was when we were still figuring out where we stood. In the first few months of our official relationship, I felt like Jamal wasn’t serious—he’d go days without reaching out, and I’d see him on Instagram living life like I didn’t exist. 

I remember calling him out on it, and he got defensive, saying he wasn’t used to people “demanding” so much attention from him. It felt like I was asking for too much when all I wanted was basic communication.

Jamal: Yeah, I was definitely in the wrong. I wasn’t used to being accountable in relationships. I had a “do what I want when I want” mindset, and that clashed with what Tomi needed. She wanted stability and consistency, and I wasn’t giving that.

The fight got really heated because, for the first time, someone was calling me out for treating them like an option. It felt uncomfortable, but it was necessary. We didn’t talk for a few days after that, but it pushed me to be more serious about us.

How did you show you were serious, Jamal?

Jamal: I had to change the way I moved. First, I stopped ghosting. That was the big thing. I made sure I was more consistent with communication—no more going MIA for days and expecting her to be cool with it. 

I also started being more intentional about spending quality time with her, not just the casual “Let’s hang when I’m free” kind of vibe. We’d plan proper dates, even if it was just chilling at her place and talking. I made an effort to be there, physically and emotionally.

Tomi: It was a turning point. It wasn’t enough to just say we were official; it was about showing up for each other in real ways. It wasn’t easy, but looking back, it was what we needed to really start building something solid.

Right

Jamal: And I made the relationship public. I know that sounds small, but I posted her on my socials, which was like me saying, “I’m serious about this girl.” It wasn’t just for show; it was about being open with everyone, including friends, that I was committed.

Tomi: We’ve even started talking about the future now. Even though we’ve agreed we should wait another year or two to be properly ready for the commitment of marriage.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your Love Life?

Tomi: I’d say it’s a solid 8. We’ve got the love, respect and commitment down, and we’re both working on ourselves individually. 

The only reason I’m not giving it a 10 is because we’re still figuring out certain things, especially around balancing our faith and the pressures of modern relationships.

Jamal: Yeah, I’d give it an 8 too. The love is there, and it’s real, but like Tomi said, there’s always stuff to work on.

What’s your earliest memory of each other?

Amaka: Honestly, I was so embarrassed the first time we met. I spilt wine on his suit at our friend’s wedding. I expected him to get mad, but he laughed.

Dayo: I think it was funny because it was one of those lowkey “social distance” weddings. She was trying so hard to apologise, but I was more interested in how she handled the awkwardness. There was something about the way she spoke that I can’t explain.

Amaka: He was like, “It’s just fabric, not the end of the world.”

What happened next?

Amaka: He slid into my DMs the next day. I was surprised because we didn’t even talk much after the wine incident at the wedding. But he found me through the wedding hashtag and sent a message that said, “I think I owe you a drink for ruining my outfit.” It was cheeky, but I liked it.

Dayo: We started talking online. It was easy. No pressure. We clicked over photography and random memes. I wasn’t even thinking about dating at the time.

Amaka: We kept it simple, but I always had this quiet vibe that we’d be more than friends. Neither of us pushed it, though, which was probably the best part.

Why was it the best part?

Amaka: This was in August 2020. I’d just gotten promoted at a time when a lot of people were getting laid off, so I was really focused on my career. I’d also been single for about a year after a messy situationship, and honestly, I was happy on my own. Relationships felt like unnecessary drama at that point.

Dayo: It was right in the middle of the pandemic. Everything was crazy, and I was working from home full-time as a software engineer. I’d gotten out of a serious relationship a few months earlier, so I wasn’t in any rush to jump into something new either. 

My last relationship ended because we wanted different things—she wanted to move abroad, and I was committed to staying in Lagos. So, when I met Amaka, I was honestly just chilling, not expecting much to come out of it. 

Neat

Amaka: Yes. It made the whole thing feel less forced. When we did fall in love, it was just good vibes, no baggage from our past creeping in.

About a month after we met, we met up in person for the first time. Dayo suggested getting the drinks he said he owed me, and I was a bit hesitant. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to take it offline so soon, but something about him felt easy. So, we met at this quiet café in VI near my office—a safe, neutral territory.

Dayo: It wasn’t one of those grand, romantic first dates; we just talked. I ordered the most basic thing—black coffee—and she made fun of me for it. But that’s when I knew I liked her. There was no pretense. No one was trying to impress the other.

Is that when the relationship started?

Amaka: Not really. It wasn’t about sparks flying everywhere; it was more like slipping into something comfortable. I didn’t even realise three hours had passed that night until they were closing the café. We walked around for a bit after, and it felt… nice.

Dayo: We started talking about a relationship two months in, but it wasn’t a “DTR” (define the relationship) moment. It was more like, “Okay, we’re clearly on the same page here. Let’s stop pretending this is casual.”

Amaka, what was your response to this?

Amaka: I don’t remember. We never had that awkward “What are we?” conversation. It just evolved naturally. 

I think the first time it felt serious was when he met my mum that Christmas. That was a big deal for me because she’s super protective, but he handled it well. After that, we kind of just knew we were in it for the long haul.

What was the relationship like once it started for real?

Amaka: Our dating period was very… simple, in the best way. There were no flashy date nights or grand gestures. It was more about the small things, like when I’d come home exhausted, and Dayo would just show up with shawarma or my favourite street suya without me asking. 

Dayo: I think people sometimes over-complicate relationships. For us, it was the everyday moments that made it work. 

I remember she’d make these fire playlists for me when I was coding late at night (she doesn’t anymore sha). I’d just have my headphones on, listening to whatever she put together while working, and it made those stressful nights easier.

Sounds like things got serious soon after this?

Amaka: It started feeling more serious when we both realised we were thinking long-term without even talking about it. 

One Sunday, just after Valentine’s Day 2021, we were strolling around the area after lunch in a restaurant when I asked him, “Do you ever think about where this is going?” 

I wasn’t trying to make it a deep conversation, so I didn’t expect much from the question. But Dayo stopped and looked at me like I’d asked the most obvious thing in the world. When he said, “It’s already going somewhere special,” it hit me that we were both on the same wavelength without needing to define anything.

Dayo: I wasn’t really the type to plan out everything, but with Amaka, I could just see it. I knew she was it for me, and that moment felt like we’d acknowledged what was already happening. We didn’t rush anything, though. Over the next year, we just kept building, letting things evolve naturally. No pressure, no big talks about timelines.

What was the next big milestone in your relationship?

Amaka: One evening in 2022, we were sitting on my balcony. It was one of those quiet moments when we didn’t need to fill the silence with small talk. He casually pulled out a ring and slipped it onto my finger, saying, “This feels right. Let’s do life together.” My heart stopped for several seconds. I was so shocked.

There was no dramatic proposal, no crowd. It was just us, exactly how I always imagined it would be.

Dayo: It wasn’t planned at all, to be honest. I didn’t even think about getting down on one knee or anything like that. I just knew that there was no one else I wanted to be with. I didn’t need to make a show of it because our relationship wasn’t built on shows. It was built on these small, quiet moments, and that’s how I wanted to propose—intimately, just between us.

It wasn’t planned, but you had a ring?

Dayo: Months before that, my brother dragged me ring shopping for his girlfriend. And I saw one that I knew Amaka would love. I think that’s when I knew for sure I wanted her to be my wife. I carried it around in my pocket for months with no plan.

So, what was the engagement period like?

Amaka: It was awkward. 

We hadn’t really talked in detail about our families or backgrounds. I think we both just liked keeping things light. It wasn’t until we got deeper into the relationship—maybe around the time we started talking about marriage—that we realised how different our upbringings were. 

I grew up in a very middle-class, “comfortable” home. My parents are civil servants, nothing flashy but stable. We didn’t struggle, but we didn’t live large either.

Dayo: My family’s wealthy. But I never really carried that on my sleeve, especially when I started dating Amaka. I didn’t want it to become this thing where people saw me differently or assumed I was entitled.

Amaka, you didn’t know he was rich?

Amaka: I had no clue. I just thought he was this humble tech guy, and that was part of what I liked about him. 

But when he invited me to his parents’ house after the engagement, I almost choked. I remember sitting there, trying to act like I wasn’t intimidated, but it was a lot. His family was polite, but there was this unspoken vibe that felt like I didn’t exactly fit in.

Dayo: I think that was the first time it really hit both of us how different our worlds were. 

My family… They weren’t hostile, but they made a few comments about Amaka’s background, and it was obvious they had concerns. They were expecting me to marry someone inside our circle. I didn’t tell her right away because I didn’t want her to feel weird about it. But yeah, it wasn’t easy navigating that.

How did you navigate it, though?

Amaka: By the time we got serious about marriage, we started facing pressure, especially from his side. My family was more relaxed, but his? They had all these expectations. They weren’t against me personally, but the expectation of “proper Lagos society” just got exhausting. 

Every time we’d try to talk about the wedding, there’d be all these side comments and subtle jabs. I think one day, I just snapped and said, “Why don’t we just do it our way, without anyone’s approval?” I meant it as a joke at first.

Dayo: Yeah, that moment was funny because we were just venting about how complicated things were getting with family, especially my mum. We’d been so caught up in trying to make everyone happy, we almost forgot this was about us. 

The idea of eloping started sounding like freedom. No drama, no trying to impress anyone, just doing what felt right for us.

Eloping? In Nigeria?

Amaka: Once the idea was out there, it stuck. It wasn’t a big, romantic “runaway together” moment. It was more like, “Okay, let’s just make this simple.” 

We picked a random Thursday —two weeks after that conversation. No one knew, not even my best friend. We both took the day off work and got married at the Ikoyi Registry. It wasn’t fancy —just us, two witnesses, and a marriage officer.

Dayo: We didn’t want anyone to talk us out of it or complicate things, so we didn’t tell our families until afterwards. After we signed the papers, I remember we went to this small bar, just the two of us, had a couple of drinks, ate pepper soup, and laughed about how we’d just done the most unconventional thing for a Nigerian couple. 

It felt right, though.

I’m in shock

Amaka: Afterward, we went back to our apartment like it was just another regular day. No one knew we’d gotten married, not even our neighbours. It was almost surreal, but it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

I’m scared to ask how your parents took it when you finally told them

Dayo: My mum was livid. She couldn’t believe we didn’t throw a proper wedding, and Amaka’s family was shocked too. But we figured they’d come around eventually. We didn’t elope to hurt anyone.

Amaka: It’s funny, though—when we eloped, a few people started putting the pieces together. They knew something was up, but they couldn’t figure out what exactly. Some of my friends still don’t know the full story. 

But did your parents later come around?

Amaka: Of course, my family came around faster than his. At first, they were shocked and a bit hurt that we didn’t have a traditional wedding, but after some time, they understood why we did it. My mum was just happy I was happy, and my dad kind of laughed it off, saying I’d always been a bit unconventional.

We ended up doing the traditional in 2023 anyway. 

Dayo: My mum didn’t speak to me for months, and there was cold silence from my extended family. I think they were embarrassed, to be honest. They kept bringing up how “proper” weddings were a big deal in our circle and how we basically disrespected my family by eloping. 

But over time, they softened. I think they realised we wouldn’t apologise for how we chose to do things, and eventually, they accepted that this was who we were.

Do you still get glances and whispers at family gatherings?

Amaka: Not really. How many family gatherings do we even attend these days?

There was one, months after we eloped, where his mum finally just sighed and said, “You two are stubborn.” But then, she smiled. That was her way of giving in, I guess.

Dayo: She still wishes we had a big wedding, though. Every now and then, she’ll drop a comment like, “You can still do a vow renewal, you know?” But at this point, everyone’s accepted that we did things differently. I think they respect that now, even if it wasn’t what they wanted.

What about your friends? Are they as accepting?

Amaka: A lot of our friends were completely thrown off when they found out. Some were offended they weren’t invited. One of my closest friends even jokingly said, “You didn’t even give me the chance to buy aso ebi.”

Dayo: Yeah, there were some awkward moments for sure. Some of my boys couldn’t understand why we didn’t just deal with the family drama. But I think over time, they realised it wasn’t about the ceremony for us—it was about keeping our peace.

Right

Dayo: The weirdest comments came from people who asked if our decision meant we were hiding something—like, “Did you elope because of money issues?” or “Why were your families against it that much?” It’s funny how people automatically assume something had to be wrong for us to make that choice. But nah, we just didn’t want the stress.

Amaka: There were others who totally got it. Some of my friends said they respected how we didn’t let anyone’s expectations define us. Still, people give us a knowing look at parties, like we broke some unwritten rule. It’s like we’ve become the couple that did the “crazy, rebellious” thing.

I thought it was impossible to elope, knowing Nigerian parents

Amaka: And I think, even now, some of them are still trying to process how we managed to pull it off without letting anyone in. But honestly, most of our real friends are happy for us—they just didn’t expect us to go that far off the beaten path.

Any regrets about it?

Amaka: There are moments I wonder what it would’ve been like to have thebig, Yoruba wedding—wearing aso ebi, having our families all there, you know? But then, I remember the peace of mind we had doing it our way. The stress of trying to please everyone would’ve driven me crazy.

Dayo: I wouldn’t say I regret it. The only thing I wish is that our families didn’t take it so hard at the time. It was tough navigating that, especially with my mum, but I don’t regret the decision itself.

Would you do it again if you could go back in time?

Amaka: I don’t know o.

Eloping definitely changed the dynamic between us and our families. It put us in a bubble for a while, where it felt like it was just us against the world. In a way, it made us stronger as a couple because we had to rely on each other more. But it also created tension, especially with his family, and that’s something we had to work through.

Dayo: Well, there was already tension there. Which is why we did what we did. 

But yeah, it made us more united as a couple, but it also forced us to grow up fast. We didn’t have the safety net of a big wedding or family support from the start, so we had to figure a lot out on our own. It was a good thing in the end, but at the time, it felt heavy.

Right

Amaka: It also changed the way people saw us. Some relatives didn’t even believe we were married until the traditional wedding. We had to explain to a lot of people that we didn’t elope just to rebel.

Dayo: But one thing for sure, eloping made us prioritise each other more. It took away all the noise and distractions. It set the tone for our marriage in a way, like, “It’s you and me, no matter what.” That mindset has helped us through a lot of the challenges we’ve faced so far.

What was your first major fight about?

Amaka: Ah, that was over something so silly. We were arguing about where to live. I wanted to stay in Lekki. I was used to the Island, it was close to my work, and let’s be real, it’s a vibe. But Dayo was set on staying on the Mainland. He had this whole thing about how Island living was overhyped and it was just going to drain our finances.

Dayo: Yeah, rent on the Island is mad. I couldn’t justify paying all that money when we could get a much bigger place for less on the Mainland. I grew up in Surulere, and I didn’t see the big deal. Plus, traffic wasn’t that bad if we timed things right. 

But I think, for Amaka, it was more than just location. It felt like we were fighting about lifestyle—what kind of life we wanted to live together.

How so?

Amaka: It wasn’t just about the house. The Island represented the life I’d worked hard for, and I didn’t want to feel like I was “downgrading” by moving to the Mainland. I know it sounds shallow, but I was used to a certain standard of living.

Dayo: That’s when it got heated. I accused her of being too materialistic, and she said I was being cheap. We were both kind of stubborn about it. The argument went on for days—silent treatment, the works. We weren’t really fighting about the house anymore; we were fighting about the future and what it meant to be together.

When did this happen exactly?

Amaka: It was about six months after we moved in together. So, maybe around February or March 2022? We’d just gotten past the honeymoon phase of living together, and reality hit us hard.

Oh, so, before eloping?

Dayo: Yeah, that’s right. By then, we were starting to see the day-to-day struggles of sharing a life—money, commuting, all of that. I think it was the first time we had to confront the fact that our backgrounds and expectations didn’t always align perfectly.

Amaka: I remember crying one night because I felt like we were so different, like maybe we wanted completely different things. But then we had this talk—one of those conversations that last till like 2 a.m. We finally got to the heart of it: we were both scared of losing who we were individually by compromising too much.

How did you resolve this?

Dayo: We met halfway. 

We ended up living on the Mainland, but we made sure to prioritise comfort and style. It wasn’t the Island penthouse Amaka dreamed of, but it was a place we could both call home. Looking back, that fight was less about where we lived and more about learning how to really communicate. It was our first big test as a couple.

Why does it sound like it wasn’t exactly halfway for Amaka?

Amaka: Because it wasn’t. Let’s be real—I compromised more. I had anidea of what our life should look like, and I didn’t get that. Moving to the Mainland felt like a step down at the time, especially when most of my friends lived on the Island. 

Dayo: I think it was more important for me to show her we could create a life we were both comfortable with, without letting societal pressures dictate everything. The truth is, we both had to adjust, but yeah, Amaka definitely gave up more in terms of location.

Amaka: I’ll admit I was salty about it for a while. Every time I hit the Third Mainland Bridge traffic, I’d remind him whose idea this was. But over time, I got used to it. I think the real halfway came in the way we decorated and made the space feel like ours. That’s where we truly met in the middle.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your Love Life?

Amaka: Hmm, I’d say a solid 8. We’ve had our ups and downs, but we’re always learning and growing together. The little things he does, like making me tea when I’m stressed, or listening when I just need to vent—it’s those moments that make it an 8 for me.

Dayo: Yeah, I’d say around an 8 too. We’ve learnt to argue better, love better, and be more patient. Plus, Amaka makes the best creamy pasta, so that bumps the rating up.

Amaka: See, it’s the food for him! But seriously, we’re still figuring things out, and that’s okay.

Check back every Thursday by 9 AM for new Love Life stories here. The stories will also be a part of the Ships newsletter, so sign up here.

READ THIS TOO: We Had “Divorce Regret” So We Remarried

What’s your earliest memory of each other?

Shola: I saw her for the first time at a friend’s wedding in 1993. 

She was wearing a bright yellow lace iro and buba, looking like the sun itself. She was much younger—just 18 or 19—but something about her energy drew me in. I didn’t talk to her at first; I wasn’t one to approach women like that, but I kept watching her from across the hall.

Eva: Yes, I was young—barely 18—and honestly, I wasn’t looking for anything serious. I’d just started university, so I was focused on my studies. When I met Shola, I didn’t see him as husband material. I thought he was too serious. 

When did you actually meet?

Shola: A few weeks later, I saw her at another gathering and made my move. I was in my prime, already established in my career, so I knew what I wanted, and I could tell she’d make a good wife. 

Eva: There was something about him that felt stable. He wasn’t like the boys I knew who were still figuring themselves out. Shola had his life together, and that was… attractive in a way I didn’t fully understand then. My mum always said I was too naive, too easily swept up by men’s charms, but I just thought I could make it work.  

And did you make it work?

Shola: Well, we did make it work… at first. I didn’t even notice the age gap back then. I just thought she was the kind of woman who could grow into a role, into a marriage, and support me like my mother supported my father. Isn’t that what most of us were looking for back then?  

Eva: But I didn’t know myself yet. That’s what people don’t talk about. I was still becoming “Eva.” At the time, I thought I was mature enough to handle the weight of being a wife, but looking back, I had no idea what I was getting into.

Did you get married soon after meeting?

Shola: Back in the ’90s, relationships weren’t as complicated as they are now. There wasn’t all this back and forth with “talking stages” and whatnot. Once I met Eva and knew she was the one, I made my intentions clear. But we didn’t rush; we didn’t marry until 1996. 

What did you do for three years?

Shola: We… courted, you could say. I wasn’t one for long, drawn-out relationships, but I respected that she was still young and in school. I gave her the space to finish her studies, but I also wanted her to know that marriage was the end goal. There was no playing around.

Eva: Courting is a generous word for what we were doing! 

You have to understand, I was 18 when we started. I had no idea what I was doing, and honestly, it wasn’t some grand romantic love story in the beginning. 

What was it like then?

Shola: I remember the first time I took her to meet my parents in the first year. My mother—God rest her soul—immediately liked her. She said Eva had a quiet strength about her, and she looked like someone who could keep a home. You know how our mothers are. 

Eva: Shola was serious, yes, but I was still caught up in the excitement of university and hanging out with my friends. I liked him, and I thought, “Okay, maybe this could be something.” But he was traditional. I remember when he told me outright, “I’m not dating for fun. I’m with you to marry.” And I wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

Shola: You were playing hard to get, Eva.

Eva: I wasn’t playing. I was genuinely unsure. 

In what ways were you unsure?

Eva: Like I said earlier, I didn’t know myself. I didn’t really understand what it meant to be a wife. I was barely 21 when we got married; I was still figuring out who I was. Shola had this clear idea of what a wife should be—supportive, nurturing, someone who could focus on the home while he focused on his career. And I tried to fit into that, but I was still a girl growing into a woman. I didn’t fully realise it until I hit my 30s and started resenting how much I’d put aside for our marriage.

What did people around you say at the time?

Eva: My friends thought I was crazy for even considering marriage so young. There were times when I felt like I needed to slow things down, but in our culture, especially then, you didn’t just casually date for years. I think I was pressured, not by Shola necessarily, but by society, my family, even myself. I thought marriage would bring me stability.

Shola: My friends were a little sceptical about the age gap too, but no one really said much. Back then, it wasn’t unusual for a man my age to marry a younger woman.

Tell me more about this courting/dating period

Eva: It was a mix of spending time with each other’s families, and—if I’m being honest—me struggling to balance my school life and the subtle, growing expectation of marriage. 

Shola: I knew I was already set in my career and life, but I gave her time to finish school. Looking back, maybe I should’ve given even more space. 

Eva: I remember people always asking me when the wedding would be, even before I’d finished my final exams. It was a lot of pressure for a young woman. But I also convinced myself that I could balance both—marriage and my future. That was… naive.

Yeah, he was set. But I wasn’t.

When did you realise that you weren’t in fact “set”?

Eva: I think it really hit me around my early 30s, maybe ten or 11 years into the marriage. 

That’s when everything I’d pushed down—my dreams, the version of myself I thought I’d become—just started bubbling up. You know how, in your 20s, you feel like you have all the time in the world? I’d been so focused on being a “good wife,” raising the kids, managing the household, and supporting Shola that I didn’t stop to think about what I wanted for myself.

Shola: I didn’t know she felt that way at the time. I thought everything was fine.

Why?

Shola: It just didn’t add up to me. We never talked about it either.

Eva: That’s the thing. We were living in different worlds. You were doing well, providing for the family, and from the outside, everything looked perfect. But inside, I was drifting. 

Weren’t you doing things too, Eva?

Eva: I only worked for a year then the kids came back-to-back, so it made sense to leave work. Shola could afford to take care of us on his salary alone. But I soon started to feel like I didn’t get the chance to know myself outside of marriage and parenting. I was a wife, a mother, but I wasn’t *me* anymore. 

Was there a defining moment when this dawned on you?

Eva: If I must pick one, there was an evening maybe in 2005, when I’d just put the kids to bed, and I was sitting in the living room, scrolling through Facebook, a big deal back then. I started seeing people I knew before, who seemed to be making so much impact outside of their families. 

And I just felt… lost. 

Shola: I thought we had a solid marriage, a nice house, good kids, everything in order, and suddenly, Eva was talking about feeling lost? It felt like a slap in the face. I mean, I’d been working hard to provide for the family, to give us stability, and now, you’re telling me you’re not happy?

Eva: I realised then that I wasn’t “set.” I wasn’t who I wanted to be. I’d been living according to everyone else’s expectations—my mother’s, Shola’s, even society’s—but not my own. That night, I broke down and cried. It was so random, but it was the first time I allowed myself to feel everything I’d been pushing aside for years.

How did you respond to this revelation, Shola?

Shola: Actually, she didn’t say anything to me at that point.

Eva: Because I didn’t know how to. We weren’t taught to communicate like that. I didn’t even know what to say. All I knew was I felt like I was slowly disappearing. I wasn’t unhappy exactly, but I wasn’t fulfilled either.

So how did things progress?

Eva: It got worse when I started a baking business in 2007. On the surface, it was a success, but deep down, I knew it was plan B. I’d wanted to go back to school and get a second degree, but by then, it felt too late. I had to be practical, right? We had bills, the kids needed to go to good schools, and Shola was still climbing his career ladder. 

So I put my dreams on the back burner.

Shola: After she started the business and finally shared what pushed her to do it, I was confused—and, if I’m being honest, angry. Not because of the business but because of how she felt about her life at the time. I didn’t understand where all of that was coming from. 

What was your reaction?

Shola: I remember I said something like, “What do you mean you’re not fulfilled? You run a business, you’re raising our children, we’re not struggling, so what’s the problem?” It didn’t make sense to me at the time because, as a man, you’re taught that as long as you’re doing your part—working hard, bringing money home, keeping the family together—that’s enough. 

I didn’t see the cracks forming because, to me, those weren’t even cracks.

Eva: But it wasn’t just about the material things. I needed more than a roof over my head and school fees for the kids. I needed to feel like my life had meaning beyond the roles I was playing as a wife and mother. And I know that’s hard for you to understand because, in your world, those things were everything.

Were you able to get past this?

Shola: Honestly, no.

In my mind, I was doing everything right. I didn’t cheat, I wasn’t the type to go out late drinking with friends. I wasn’t abusive. We had it good. So when she started talking about feeling unfulfilled, I felt like she was… ungrateful. Like she didn’t appreciate all the sacrifices I’d made for our family.

Eva: He’d always tell me to stop comparing myself to other people, especially the women who were still chasing careers. 

One time, he said, “Those women aren’t even in happy marriages like you are.” And I remember feeling so small because I didn’t have the words to explain that I didn’t just want a “happy marriage.” I wanted more for myself.

Shola: I’ll admit, I was young and defensive. I started listing out everything I’d done for us—the sacrifices, the work, all of it. I was thinking, “You’re talking about finding yourself? What about finding time to appreciate me?” At the time, I saw it as a personal attack, as though I was failing as a husband.

Eva, why do you think starting the business didn’t make it better?

Eva: I’m not sure. Maybe the damage had already been done to my sense of self-worth and our relationship as a whole. 

Baking was just a hobby I decided to make money off to keep myself busy. It wasn’t something I was passionate about the way he was about his investment banking, and stoked to go into the office every day like it was cocaine. That’s a major thing that triggered my emptiness, watching him for years, doing something he was deeply passionate about and getting value from it.

Shola: It took me a while to realise marriage isn’t just about fulfilling basic roles—it’s about both partners growing together. At that point, though, I wasn’t ready to admit that maybe I wasn’t doing enough in that area.

Eva: I needed us to connect emotionally, to feel like we were still growing together. I needed to be seen as more than just “Shola’s wife” or the mother of your children. I didn’t know how to express that properly back then, and I think that’s why things fell apart.

Fell apart?

Eva: I asked for a divorce towards the end of 2016. 

The last of our kids had gone to the UK to join his siblings in college, and my sister convinced me to move so I could be a closer support system for them. It was as I considered what I needed to do to transfer my life from Nigeria to over there that I realised not much connected me to Shola any longer.

Shola: At that point, we were civil, but we barely spoke. When we bought our house in 2012 and moved in, we took separate rooms. That was just it.

Eva: I raised the idea of divorce with my sister, and she surprised me by validating it as a sensible next step—a fresh start. 

Our divorce was finalised in 2018.

So you just accepted her request for divorce, Shola?

Shola: I didn’t see it coming, or maybe I didn’t want to see it. In Nigeria, we don’t get divorced. In my mind, no matter how bad things got, divorce wasn’t an option. You separate, you give each other space, maybe things cool off for a while, but divorce? No. 

I remember telling her, “We don’t do this. We don’t break up families over feelings.” I was holding onto the belief that if I just stayed the course, eventually, she’d change her mind. But then she started sending papers and talking about moving to the UK.

Eva: I didn’t make that decision lightly. I’d felt disconnected for years, and every time I tried to express it, it was like I was hitting a wall. He was so focused on what marriage looked like to the outside world that he couldn’t see what was happening inside.

What happened when you saw she was serious, Shola?

Shola: I was angry. Really angry. 

I felt like she was abandoning me, like after all the years we put in, she was just throwing it all away. My friends, my family, they all told me the same thing: “Don’t sign the papers. She’ll come back to her senses.” Even my mother, God bless her, kept saying, “A woman’s place is with her husband. She’ll realise what she’s doing is wrong.” But she didn’t.

Eva: By 2016, I knew staying in the marriage was only making me more resentful. I wasn’t being fair to you or myself. I didn’t want our kids to see us just going through the motions, pretending like everything was fine when it wasn’t.

How did your kids react to the news?

Shola: The kids… well, that was probably the hardest part. They took it differently, but it was tough on all of them. Our eldest didn’t talk to me much during the process. He was closer to his mother, and I think he blamed me for everything that was going on. There was a lot of tension between us during that time.

Eva: He’d grown up seeing us as a unit, and suddenly, we weren’t that anymore. He told me once, “Mum, why didn’t you just talk to Dad? Why didn’t you guys work it out?” And that broke my heart because he didn’t understand that it wasn’t for lack of trying. He was angry at both of us for a while.

I can imagine

Shola: The other two took it much worse. 

I’ll never forget one evening, shortly after Eva had relocated with them, Kemi called me crying. She said she missed how things were, and she didn’t understand why we couldn’t just fix it. I didn’t know what to say to her because, honestly, I didn’t understand it fully either. I was still coming to terms with everything myself.

Eva: Kemi would often say she missed her dad, but whenever Shola called or visited, she’d be distant.

So the divorce went through? What led you back to each other then?

Eva: It wasn’t like one of those grand epiphanies you see in movies; we just reconnected thanks to the pandemic. 

After the divorce, we didn’t talk much except when it was about the kids. I was living in the UK, and Shola was still in Lagos. Honestly, I thought that was it. I was focused on starting over—getting my life back together, and he was doing his own thing. But COVID happened, everyone was locked in, and suddenly there was all this time and space for reflection. 

I think it was around April 2020 when he called out of the blue. 

Shola: I realised how much I missed Eva during the lockdown. I was home alone in Lagos, my friends were all in their houses with their families, and I didn’t have the kids around for company. It was just me and my thoughts, and I kept thinking about her. Not as my ex-wife, but as someone who’d been a huge part of my life for so long. 

The more I thought about it, the more I realised a lot of our issues had come from not really talking. I was always so focused on my job and friends, I didn’t listen to her enough.

What was said during this call?

Eva: I remember feeling irritated at first. Like, “What does he want now?” But the conversation wasn’t about logistics or the kids—it was just… us. We talked for hours that night. It was so strange because, after years of bitterness, anger, and silence, there was this sudden openness. I won’t say I forgave everything right away, but we started talking regularly. It became a thing. I’d look forward to his calls.

Shola: The first call… I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but it was easier than I thought. We laughed about old times. We didn’t jump straight back into a romantic relationship; that would’ve been impossible. We had a lot of issues to sort through, a lot of resentment to unpack.

Did you figure out exactly what?

Eva: Yes. Like how I felt unsupported, or how he felt like I’d changed after the kids came.

It was hard at first because Shola has never been one to openly express his emotions. He’s the typical Yoruba man—everything is done in silence, with pride. But during those lockdown conversations, he was more vulnerable than I’d ever heard him before. He admitted to things I thought he’d never acknowledge, like how he wished he’d done more when I was trying to balance school, the kids, and the bakery. That meant a lot to me.

How did you sustain this new energy after the pandemic eased up?

Eva: When the world opened up again, I didn’t just pack my bags and move back. We visited each other a few times in 2021, and it felt nice, like we were rebuilding something that’d been lost. Suddenly, I felt this pang of “divorce regret” that wouldn’t go away. It kept reminding me that he didn’t do anything wrong; I only needed to find myself outside him, and now, I had.

When I finally moved back to Nigeria in 2022, we decided to take things slow. We started dating again. I honestly don’t know how that happened. We went out, spent time with family. I think what really helped was that we no longer had the pressure of the kids living with us. They were in the UK, and we could just focus on each other.

Shola: The truth is I’d never given up on our marriage. Divorce was just a formality; I’d never stop seeing her as my wife. 

We just learnt how to talk about the things we avoided before. It wasn’t about assigning blame anymore, but about acknowledging how we both failed each other and figuring out how not to make those same mistakes.

When did the idea of a remarriage come up?

Shola: During the Christmas holiday of 2022, I felt she was ready. 

I hosted a group of friends for dinner, and she was the last to leave, so I just asked her, “Should we do this again?” She smiled, and it was amazing how she immediately knew what I meant. That was it. We remarried quietly in a church service in early 2023. No big fanfare, just family and close friends.

Eva: We needed to know we’d both grown enough to give it another shot. Now, it’s not about trying to be the perfect couple, but about being better than we were before. We communicate more, and we’ve learnt to respect each other’s individuality.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your Love Life now?

Eva: I’d say a solid 7. I know that might sound low to some people, especially after all we’ve been through. But marriage—especially the second time around—isn’t about perfection for me anymore.Shola: For me, 8. I agree with Eva, but we’re in a much better and easier place than we were during our first marriage.

What’s your earliest memory of each other?

Nonso: It was in 2015, during one of those boring group projects in university. We were in 200 level; she was always quiet, just in the background. We didn’t talk much back then, but I noticed her, you know? I didn’t think much of it.

Jane: I saw Nonso for the first time in 100 level. We were in the same department but different courses. He was helping someone with their laptop at the library. He was out of my league—tall, good-looking, and surrounded by people who were always laughing at his jokes. 

Everyone knew him, and his name always found its way into people’s conversations. Over time, I realised why; he was just charming, kind and smart—basically perfect.

How did that make you feel?

Jane: I liked him, just like everyone else, but I kept my distance after that. It was easier than trying to force something when I felt so invisible. I used to daydream about us meeting under different circumstances, like maybe if I looked better or felt more confident, but back then, I convinced myself it wasn’t meant to be. 

Nonso: Honestly, if you’d talked to me then, I probably would’ve been surprised. I never really got that you had a crush on me until we reconnected years later.

But why were you so sure it wasn’t meant to be, Jane?

Jane: I didn’t feel like I was good enough for him. I was overweight, shy, and insecure, and he was the type of guy who walks into a room and everyone gravitates towards him. He was always close to one beautiful girl after the other, and they were also the perfect “slim, kind, talented and smart” types. 

I felt like I was stuck on the sidelines.

Nonso: Nine years later, I still can’t fully wrap my head around this. Honestly, it’s strange thinking back and realising how much she was going through at the time. To me, she was just… there, like another face in the crowd.

Harsh

Nonso: I don’t mean it in a bad way at all. We never had the opportunity to meet and get to know each other then. Hearing that she felt invisible, especially to me, kinda messes with me. I never saw myself as that guy—the type who makes someone feel less-than. 

Jane: I watched the girls he hung out with—fit, confident, always looking like they had their lives together. And then there was me, avoiding pictures because I hated how I looked, dodging social events because I didn’t want anyone to notice me. I honestly thought, “Why would a guy like him even look at someone like me?” It was like we lived in two different worlds.

Right

Jane: And you know how Lagos is. Everyone’s so quick to point out your weight or appearance. I’d gotten enough backhanded compliments from family, friends, even strangers at parties—things like, “You have such a pretty face for someone your size.” That stuff sticks, no matter how much you try to shrug it off. 

So I told myself it wouldn’t happen. He’d never notice me the way I wanted him to, and honestly, I didn’t want to embarrass myself.

Nonso: If I’m being completely honest, it makes me wonder about myself a bit. Like, did I give off some vibe that I’d only be interested in a certain type of girl? School can be very superficial, especially within certain circles, and maybe I didn’t realise how much I fed into that image back then. 

Jane: Looking back, it was unhealthy thinking on my part. But at the time, I didn’t know better. It just felt safer to avoid him than to face the possibility of rejection.

So you went the whole university period without meeting officially?

Jane: We were in the same spaces, same group projects sometimes, but I always made sure to keep my distance. There were times when I’d see him at events or, like, random hangouts, and I’d just quietly leave or make myself as invisible as possible. I didn’t want him to remember me as “the fat girl trying too hard”. 

Nonso: It’s wild to hear her talk about it. Honestly, I can’t remember noticing her at those events. Not because she wasn’t noticeable or anything, but because back then, I wasn’t really paying much attention to the people around me like that. I was just living in the moment, you know? Typical university stuff.

How do you feel about this in hindsight?

Jane: It was kind of exhausting, now that I think about it. 

I was basically orchestrating my own disappearance from his life. I’d see him laughing with his friends or some girl, and just immediately feel like I didn’t belong there. I never gave myself the chance to just be in the same room without overthinking everything. 

Nonso: If she’d come up to me back then, I don’t think I would’ve been rude or anything. 

Was that really the concern?

Jane: That’s the thing, though. It wasn’t that I thought he’d be rude. It’s that I thought he wouldn’t notice me in the way I wanted him to. Like, I’d be just another person, and that was scarier in a way. I felt like I had to be someone he’d actually like. 

Nonso: I wonder what it would’ve been like if she’d approached me back then—without the weight loss, without changing anything about herself. Would I have seen her the same way I do now? It’s a hard question to answer. I wasn’t as mature then.

Jane: So yeah, I stayed away. I’d hear through our coursemates how he was doing, but we never talked. It’s weird thinking we were just floating around each other for years without ever properly crossing paths.

How far did you go to be this “ideal” girlfriend?

Jane: I went far. 

I feel crazy thinking about it. I don’t understand why I felt so strongly about him. Like, it wasn’t just about losing weight, though that was a huge part of it. I lost over 30 kg because I hated my body and felt like he’d never even glance my way if I didn’t change that. 

But it wasn’t just the physical stuff. I started paying attention to the kind of girls he hung out with, what they looked like, how they dressed, how they carried themselves. And I felt like I had to match that level of “put-together”. 

Nonso: Part of me feels guilty, like, why did she feel she had to go through all of that? At the same time, I’m grateful because I love who she is now, but it’s hard knowing she had to mould herself so much just for us to get here.

Right. What else did you do, Jane?

Jane: I’d stalk his social media to see the kind of things he posted about—like, what music he listened to, what books he was reading, even what restaurants he liked. And I’d try to get into those things, too. I started listening to his favourite artists, reading the same books, even getting into fitness because he was always posting about hitting the gym. 

Nonso: This is so hard to listen to. It’s flattering, but also overwhelming. It’s nice that she tried to connect with my interests, but I think I would’ve liked her just the way she was.

Jane: I wanted to be able to have conversations with him that made me seem interesting, like I was on his level. I know it’ll sound hard to believe, but I didn’t do any of these things in a creepy way. I just wanted to better myself, and he was the perfect motivation.

And your interest in him didn’t die down after graduation?

Jane: I remember even turning down guys I was attracting during that time because, in my head, they weren’t Nonso. 

There was one guy, actually, that I dated briefly in 2018. He was sweet, but I kept thinking, “He’s not who I really want,” so I ended things after a few months. It’s crazy looking back on it because I was holding out for someone I wasn’t even sure would notice me. 

Nonso, what was your dating life like before Jane?

Nonso: Ah, my dating life was… let’s say “active” during university. I wasn’t looking for anything serious back then. I was attending events, meeting different girls. Lagos dating culture is wild—you’re either in it for the vibes or chasing something serious, and I was firmly in the first category.

Jane: I think that’s part of why I’m now glad I never bothered to approach him then.

Nonso: Yeah. I had a couple of short-term relationships, nothing too deep. After university, I was focused on my career. I think the longest relationship I had before Jane was about six months, but we broke up because we didn’t really vibe emotionally. 

Looking back, I was avoiding anything too serious because I wasn’t ready for it, or maybe I just hadn’t met the right person. It wasn’t until Jane and I reconnected that I started thinking about something deeper and more long-term. She came at a time when I was maturing, and I think that made all the difference.

So how did you reconnect?

Nonso: It wasn’t planned or anything dramatic, at least I don’t think it was. 

It was at someone’s birthday party in December 2022, and there she was. I didn’t recognise her; it took a while to put two and two together.

Jane: I was super nervous about seeing him again. I’d been following his updates on social media, but meeting him in person felt like a whole new challenge. I didn’t want him to see me as the girl from university who was too shy to even say hi. 

When I saw him at that party, I thought, “Here’s my chance to make a real first impression.” So I approached him, and we just talked like we were catching up after a long time. I didn’t even know he didn’t know who I was.

When did you both catch on?

Nonso: Later on in the event. 

We had a couple of our former coursemates there, so the references added up at some point. I was like, “Wait, you’re that Jane?!” I was shocked and happy at the same time. We talked and the conversation was easy, and I was surprised by how much we had in common. 

We started hanging out, going on dates, and just enjoying each other’s company. It wasn’t until months passed and we were deeper into our relationship that Jane revealed everything she’d done to be with me. It was a shock, but it also made me see her in a different light. 

Jane: Yeah, I guess I felt like if I could become his dream girl, everything would fall into place. But it wasn’t easy. I lost myself for a while.

In what ways?

Jane: I became obsessed with changing. For most of those eight years, I was constantly critiquing myself and feeling like I wasn’t enough unless I changed. If I missed a workout day or ate too much one time, I’d be so mean to myself. It was tough, but I think I’m better for it today.

Nonso: I’m proud of her for her growth and everything she’s achieved, but the reason behind it feels… complicated.

Jane: I also struggled with mad anxiety that it wouldn’t work out in the end. It took reconnecting with him and seeing how we felt about each other to start reclaiming who I am and who I want to be. It’s been a journey to rebuild my confidence and embrace myself without pretence.

Did people close to you know you were doing these things?

Jane: Not the full extent of it. 

They noticed the physical changes, and they were supportive of my health goals, but I downplayed how much it was driven by wanting to impress someone. I told them I was just working on being my best self and getting in shape, which wasn’t a complete lie. I didn’t want to worry them or have them think I was doing it for the wrong reasons.

Nonso: I honestly would do the same in your shoes.

Same

Jane: I kept up a facade with my friends, too. They knew I was changing my look and interests, but they just assumed it was a personal growth phase. I would occasionally mention my crush on Nonso, but I kept the depth of my efforts hidden. I didn’t want them to think I was fixated or that my self-worth was wrapped up in getting his attention.

It was a lonely process, but I felt like I had to go through it alone to make it work.

Now, almost two years in, does it feel worth it?

Jane: Yes. I feel happier and healthier than ever today.

It’s been an adjustment, after putting him on a pedestal for so long. But like I said, I’m not crazy. I expected him to have flaws and be a human being. I’ve learnt that he’s actually a grumpy grumps and only charming when he’s outside. I’ve learnt that beneath his interests, he has quirks—like how he actually hates going to the gym even though he still does it semi-regularly.

Nonso: I hate working out. Once I’m 35, I’ll just embrace whatever potbelly life throws at me. 

Jokes aside, I didn’t know her then, but I love her for who she is now. Even though I’m still coming to terms with her claims that she changed a lot to make this relationship work even before we really knew each other, it feels like what you see is what you get with her. 

Have you ever regretted any part of what led up to this relationship?

Jane: What’s interesting is that the real Nonso is better in ways I never expected. He’s more grounded and thoughtful than the version of him I created in my head. When we have tough conversations, he’s patient, and he listens. It’s the little things—like how he shows up when I’m stressed, or how he genuinely cares about my well-being—that I couldn’t have known about from the outside looking in.

So, no. I can’t say there’s ever been a moment I regret waiting and changing for him.

Nonso: It’s funny because hearing her talk about this makes me realise how much pressure I was under without even knowing. It’s crazy to think someone could spend years building you up in their head, and you have to live up to that. I know I’ve disappointed her in ways she’s not mentioning. I’m not the neatest guy, and I can be forgetful.

But what I love about where we are now is that she’s seeing me for me, and she’s still here. We’ve been figuring each other out, and yeah, there’s been tension, but I think we’ve come out stronger for it. 

Tell me about this tension. What was your first major fight about?

Jane: Oh, I remember this clearly—it was about two months into the relationship, days after I told Nonso everything. I thought I was being honest and vulnerable, but he got really quiet, almost distant, and it made me panic. He said something like, “So, do you even know who you are outside of me?” That hit me hard. I felt like he was undermining everything I’d done to get to where we were.

Nonso: I didn’t know how to handle what she told me—it was a lot to process. I wasn’t upset that she made changes; I was more concerned about the mindset behind it. Like, I appreciated everything she did, but the fact that she felt she had to go that far to be with me didn’t sit right. 

How did you react?

Jane: I got defensive, started pointing out how I felt like I’d sacrificed so much to be with him, and it spiralled from there. I accused him of not understanding how much I’d struggled with my self-esteem over the years. I remember saying, “If you don’t want me, just say it now,” and he looked so frustrated, like he didn’t even know how to respond. 

Nonso: When I asked her if she knew who she was outside of me, it wasn’t to hurt her, but because I was genuinely worried. I didn’t want her to think the only way we could work was if she kept trying to fit into some idea of who I wanted her to be. The tension came from that misunderstanding—she thought I didn’t appreciate her sacrifices, and I felt like she was sacrificing too much of herself.

That makes sense

Jane: That was the first time we really clashed because we were coming at the situation from completely different perspectives. I felt like I’d done everything for love, and he saw it as desperation.

Nonso: It got heated because we were both emotional. I remember thinking it was supposed to be the honeymoon phase, but instead, we were having these deep, painful conversations about identity and self-worth. I didn’t have the right words at that moment, and I think that made things worse.

But you resolved things in the end

Jane: Yes. We didn’t talk much afterward, and I even thought it might be the end. I tried to be brave about it, reminding myself that I’d prepared for the possibility that he still wouldn’t like me despite my efforts, and that’s okay. 

But literally the next day, which was a Sunday, he reached out. We skipped service and met up to have a calmer conversation about it. We realised we were both coming from places of insecurity—me with my body and self-worth, and him with the pressure he felt to be the “perfect” guy I’d built up in my mind.

Nonso: It’s crazy. The whole thing is crazy to me, but it honestly just feels like destiny. I’ve gotten a lot more spiritual in the last year, and I see God’s hand in this, TBH. Sometimes, I just stare at her for long minutes and am amazed to be with someone like her. We have a few moments like that when we’re just alone and quiet together. 

On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your Love Life?

Jane: 9. I have my dream man. 

I know as feminist, we’re not supposed to treat men like the prize, but I set my mind to a goal and achieved it. It only means all my other ambitious life goals are achievable.

Nonso: 10. I have a driven and beautiful woman who I know beyond a doubt wants and loves me. I definitely won a prize.

READ THIS TOO: It’s My 2nd Marriage, and He’s 13 Years Younger Than Me

What’s your earliest memory of each other?

Peter: It was my first day at my first job post-NYSC in 2017. He started some months before me, but we were both fresh out of university. I’d heard horror stories about working in Lagos, so I was already bracing myself for the worst. 

Ayo walked in that morning all self-assured. He ended up being assigned as my mentor during orientation, and I was struck by how easy it was to talk to him. It wasn’t just small talk; we had a real conversation about our hopes, fears and what we wanted out of life, on that first day.

Ayo: My earliest memory of him is his laugh. It was the first thing that stood out to me—how he could be so nervous yet still find something to laugh about. We were in this awkward team-building exercise some days into the orientation, where everyone was supposed to share something unique about themselves. 

Most people said the usual things, but Peter blurted out that he was obsessed with old-school cartoons. Everyone laughed; there was something about the way he made people feel at ease, like he was always trying to make the world a little less serious. I think that’s when I knew I wanted to be around him more.

Did you tell each other how you felt right away?

Peter: Oh, definitely not. It took a long time for us to get there. I didn’t even realise I liked him in that way at first. 

We became friends. We’d go to work together, have lunch together, hang out on weekends. People would joke that we were like an old married couple, but I brushed it off as just that—a joke. 

Ayo: No, it wasn’t immediate at all. I had my guard up for a long time because of past experiences. I’d been with a few guys before, and none of those ended well. 

When I met Peter, our connection was deep from the start. But I didn’t want to mess it up by rushing things or assuming he felt the same way. I mean, I didn’t even know if he was queer or not. And in Nigeria, you have to be so careful. Even if someone is your best friend, you can never be too sure how they’ll react to you being gay. 

Peter: Plus, I’d never been in a relationship before, so I didn’t even know what it felt like to like someone. It was only after a few years, when I started feeling a pang of jealousy whenever Ayo talked about dating someone else, that I began to understand my feelings.

What was the specific turning point?

Ayo: We had this one night when we just sat in my room talking about everything and nothing, and I felt like I had to say something. I could just sense that he felt the same way, but neither of us wanted to make the first move. It was almost like we were waiting for the other person to give a sign. 

It just slipped out awkwardly. I told him I loved him. And it was such a relief when I did because he said it back. We just sat there, both a little stunned by the reality of what we’d admitted to each other.

Peter: He’s forgetting to add that this was over two years after we met.

What happened within the span of those years?

Ayo: Again, we were really good friends—who happened to spend almost all our time together.

Peter: We’d go for things like short film screenings and art exhibitions; things that none of our other friends particularly found fun. I think the bond solidified over us loving the same niche things, like manga and long walks. 

I’d always wanted to be involved in running marathons. And I never would’ve if I didn’t have someone like him, who was just as interested, to motivate me.

How did the relationship evolve after?

Peter: Things became… complicated. 

We didn’t just jump into a relationship. We were still figuring out what this meant for us for some time. It’s one thing to admit your feelings; it’s another thing entirely to navigate those feelings in a place like Nigeria. So, we kind of tiptoed around it for a while. We continued being friends, but with this new layer of understanding between us.

Ayo: It was a weird transition. 

We didn’t go on dates. We created our own version of dating—a lot of nights in, eating my mum’s dinner together in my small room, watching movies, just being in each other’s company. We’d eat together during lunch breaks too, and while it looked like two colleagues hanging out, there was this new, unspoken bond between us. 

But there was also this tension, because we were constantly looking over our shoulders, worried someone might catch on.

Sounds tedious

Ayo: It wasn’t until a few months later that we had our first real date outside our homes. We went to this small, quiet restaurant where no one knew us. We sat in the corner, hardly touching, just talking. But for us, that felt like the most rebellious thing we could do—just sit there, in public, as a couple.

But Ayo, you’ve been in relationships with other men. Was this how those went too?

Ayo: They weren’t even real relationships, now that I think about it. They were more like flings, mostly physical. I was younger then, and I didn’t really understand what I wanted or needed from a partner. I just knew I was attracted to men. And to be honest, those relationships were toxic. 

With Peter, it’s never been about sex—it’s about the way we understand each other.

Peter: We didn’t even know we were both asexual until much later, which probably explains why his other relationships never worked. 

Ayo: It’s about having someone who truly gets you, who makes you feel safe in a world that constantly tells you you’re wrong for being who you are. So yeah, while we’re always careful, it’s the first time I’ve felt like I’m in a relationship that isn’t defined by sex or secrecy but by love, respect, and this deep, almost spiritual connection.

Do you have support systems?

Peter: That’s tricky. Besides each other, it’s really limited. 

We can’t talk to our families about it—they’re either too religious, too traditional, or just outright homophobic. Most of our friends don’t even know we’re together; they just think we’re really close friends who spend a lot of time together. There are a couple of people we’ve confided in, but it’s always a gamble. 

Ayo: Yeah, it’s tough. We don’t have the luxury of a typical support system. There’s no one to run to when things get hard, no family dinners where we can just be ourselves. My past experiences have made me even more cautious. I’ve been outed before by someone I thought I could trust, and it was a nightmare. 

That’s why we’re so careful now.

You must have some friends close enough to know by now…

Peter: We stick to small, private groups where we can share our experiences with other queer people, both in Nigeria and abroad. 

There’s this added pressure to stay under the radar, especially with how dangerous society is these days. We avoid PDA, even the smallest things like holding hands or sitting too close together. It’s exhausting, but we’ve learnt to navigate it. We have our own little code words and signals for when we’re out in public. 

Ayo: Actually, the isolation is the hardest part. 

Most times, it feels like we’re the only two people in the world who understand what we’re going through. And sometimes, that pressure gets to us. We’ve had arguments about it—about how much we can or can’t say to certain people, about whether it’s worth the risk to confide in someone new.

How do you navigate that constant fear?

Peter: We just keep going. The same way we all navigate the fear of dollar crashing and ruining your business, or you or your family getting kidnapped, or random fuel scarcity, inflation—everything else that’s wrong with this country. 

Ayo: We’ve thought about leaving Nigeria, moving somewhere we can just be ourselves without fear, but it’s not that simple. Leaving would mean starting over from scratch. There’s this weird sense of attachment to this place, even with all its flaws. It’s home, you know?

Peter: That being said, I wish there were more queer resources available. It would make a world of difference to have access to counselling, safe spaces, or even just more understanding friends and family. But until that day comes, we’re our own support system, and we’ve learnt to be okay with that.

But do you plan to just never tell your family about each other?

Peter: Are you sure you’re a Nigerian with Nigerian parents? 

If I’m being honest, the thought of telling my family terrifies me. They’re very religious—church every Sunday, prayer meetings during the week, that kind of thing. I know exactly how they’d react if I came out to them. It wouldn’t be just disappointment; it would be outright rejection. They’d probably try to “fix” me, take me to some pastor for deliverance or something like that. 

And if that didn’t work, I’d be cut off. No contact, no support, nothing.

Ayo: I’ve gone back and forth on this a lot. Then reality hits, and I remember who my family is. My parents aren’t even religious like that, but they have zero tolerance for anything outside the norm. I remember when one of my cousins was rumoured to be gay about a decade ago; they cut him off completely. And he wasn’t even gay.

Wild

Peter: It’s not just about me, either. I’m the firstborn, and I have younger siblings. If I come out, it would affect them too. My parents might see it as some sort of failure on their part and take it out on them. I can’t do that to them. So I’ve made peace with the fact that my family may never know. 

Maybe one day, I might reconsider. But for now, it’s just not worth the risk.

Ayo: I don’t think I ever will. My parents keep asking when I’ll settle down with a nice girl, start a family. I usually just laugh it off or change the subject.

It’s a painful situation to be in, and it sucks that we even have to think like this. I wish things were different. I wish I could introduce Peter to my family, let them see how much he means to me. But I know that’s not the reality we live in. It’s not ideal, but it’s the only way we can maintain some semblance of peace in our lives.

The friends who do know about this, how did they react?

Peter: They’re exhausting, to be honest. Even the ones in the queer communities we’ve joined over time, you’d think they’d know better. The constant questions about who’s the masculine and who’s the feminine partner are probably the most frustrating. 

Ayo and I are both masculine, and that doesn’t fit the stereotype. People look at us and assume one of us must play a certain role or that we’re not being “authentic” to their idea of what a queer relationship should look like.

Ayo: A lot of it comes from ignorance. People don’t know what they don’t know, and we’re often faced with having to educate them, which can be draining. When people ask who’s the masculine and who’s the feminine partner, it feels like they’re not just questioning our roles in the relationship, but our entire legitimacy. 

Or the ones who assume men are only gay because of the sex.

Really?

Ayo: Yes, and it’s hurtful.

People have this ingrained idea that sex is a crucial part of men “become” gay, so when they find out it’s not part of ours, they call us liars or think we’re crazy. It just makes us more determined to live our truth and show our love is valid, no matter what anyone thinks.

Does that mean you don’t have sex at all?

Peter: Yes, that’s right.

When we first got together, we both realised we were on the same page about it. For us, intimacy is more about emotional connection, trust and companionship. It doesn’t mean we don’t have a deep, intimate relationship—it just means that sex isn’t a part of it. We’ve never felt pressured to include it because it’s just not something either of us craves.

Ayo: Our first kiss was so awkward, and I was terrified. We wondered if something was wrong or if we should be doing something different. But once we understood ourselves better, it was a huge relief. We love to hug and cuddle and just feel each other’s warmth. But that’s where it ends. 

Can we unpack the part where people assume sex is the main reason why people are queer?

Ayo: I don’t know if it’s just me, but I’ve noticed that people can’t fathom that a same-sex relationship can be about more than just sex. They see two men in a relationship, and immediately jump to conclusions that it can never be that deep.

Peter: When we finally share that we’re both asexual, people are shocked. Even other queer people. We’ve had to deal with a lot of unprovoked questioning.

Interesting. Any plans for the future?

Peter: Moving in together seems like the most natural thing to do, especially after five years together. But for us, it’s complicated. Living together as two men who aren’t related would raise too many eyebrows, especially in the kind of neighbourhoods we can afford to live in. People are nosy, and they talk. 

My family, for example, would want to know why I’m living with another man instead of getting married and starting a family. They’d probably show up unannounced, and that’s not a risk we can take. 

Ayo: But we always spend more time at my place. 

The plan is to move to Abuja together once my rent is due in February—away from everyone we both know. We’ve started looking for jobs there, so fingers crossed. Neither of us particularly wants kids; we’ll just grow old together living our private lives.

Why don’t you want kids?

Ayo: No big reason. It’s just too complicated for us to plan towards right now.

What was your first major fight about?

Peter: Some months after we decided to date, weeks before we’d even convinced ourselves to go on an outside date, Ayo invited a friend over to his place while I was there, without giving me a heads-up. 

I felt uncomfortable because I’d never met this friend before and wasn’t sure how I would be perceived. I’m someone who values having a bit of notice before having new people come into my personal space, especially since we were still figuring out our relationship.

Ayo: I honestly thought he was overreacting and being too reserved. It was like he didn’t trust me and judgement—and in my own father’s house again? But now, I know it was more about him needing to feel comfortable and secure in our shared spaces. 

How did this turn into a fight?

Peter: We ended up having a long conversation about it after the guy left, and it was very heated. We both felt hurt and misunderstood, and it took a while for us to really listen to each other’s perspectives.

Ayo: I don’t know why but I felt judged for my choice of friends. I felt like he wasn’t giving me the flexibility to make decisions about my own space. 

His reaction also felt too different from his usual way of laughing things off and taking nothing seriously. But after I calmed down and gave him small silent treatment, I realised he was just scared. He’d just come out to himself, whereas I’d known I was queer much longer than him.

I still didn’t apologise sha.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your Love Life?

Peter: 7. I can’t wait for us to move in together so the rating can go higher. 

Ayo: Yes. Probably a 7.

ANOTHER ONE: I Fell in Love With My Childhood Friend

What’s your earliest memory of each other?

Muyiwa: I remember seeing her at a friend’s party in late 2022. She was wearing a bright yellow dress, standing out from everyone else. I didn’t approach her that night because I thought, “This babe is way out of my league.” 

But we ran into each other again at a work event and I finally worked up the courage to talk to her.

Banke: I don’t remember him from this friend’s party. When we met at the other event, I liked that he wasn’t trying too hard to impress anyone; he was just comfortable in his skin. That kind of quiet confidence is rare, especially in men around here who feel the need to overcompensate. 

What made you like each other?

Banke: I was tired of the typical Nigerian guys who think they have to show off their money or connections. Muyiwa didn’t even try to flirt with me when we first talked, which made me curious. I guess I liked the idea of a man who didn’t need to prove anything.

But honestly, if you’d told me then that we’d end up together with a kid months later, I would’ve laughed it off.

Muyiwa: What really drew me to her when we first spoke was her drive about her work.

But it wasn’t just her ambition. When we started talking more, I saw this vulnerable, soft side she didn’t show to many people. It made me want to protect her, even though she didn’t need protecting. I liked that she could be this powerhouse at work but still have moments when she let her guard down with me, even early on when I thought we’d be just friends.

So how did this friendship turn into a relationship?

Muyiwa: We exchanged numbers, but we didn’t rush into anything. We’d text occasionally, mostly just small talk, nothing serious. It wasn’t until about three weeks later that things really kicked off. We ran into each other at another mutual friend’s birthday party. 

Banke: We ended up talking for hours about life, work, family. That was when I felt like I really got to know him. What I liked about him after that was how he listened. I’ve met a lot of guys who pretend to be interested in what you’re saying, but you can tell their mind is somewhere else. 

With Muyiwa, he was genuinely engaged. He asked thoughtful questions, remembered little details, and wasn’t intimidated by me.

Muyiwa: What pushed us closer was this one conversation where she mentioned how exhausting it was being a woman in her field. She was dealing with a lot of pressure, trying to prove herself in a male-dominated industry. I remember telling her she didn’t have to be “on” all the time with me, that she could just be herself. 

The way she looked at me for a while then smiled, I just knew I wanted her to be my girlfriend.

Did you ask her immediately?

Muyiwa: No, I waited till we spoke on the phone that night. We started dating not long after that because she had to think about it. But we were just going with the flow. Neither of us was thinking too far ahead. 

Banke: Then, a few months in, I was pregnant. That changed everything. 

So there was already sex involved in the flow?

Banke: Yes, but we weren’t prepared for this. I wanted to keep the baby, but it didn’t stop me from freaking out. Marriage was the obvious next step, but something about rushing into it didn’t feel right to either of us. 

I was at a point in my career where things were really taking off, and the timing just felt all wrong. But after the initial panic, Muyiwa was the one who calmed me down. He said we’d figure it out together, which gave me some peace of mind.

Muyiwa: At that point, I had a really good job. I assumed I’d keep working, and we’d somehow juggle everything. But a few months after our daughter was born, I got laid off during a company downsizing. 

Banke: I was still on maternity leave, and we were suddenly living off my savings and his severance pay. We had to make some quick decisions. The job market was rough, and with a newborn at home, we needed one of us to be with her full-time. 

I went back to work, and Muyiwa kind of fell into the role of primary caregiver.

Wait, a lot happened so fast. Why does it sound like these decisions came easy to you?

Muyiwa: It was chaotic, and nothing about those decisions was easy. 

When Banke told me she was pregnant, we weren’t even half a year into the relationship, and suddenly, we were talking about raising a child together. We didn’t have a solid plan; we were just trying to keep our heads above water. There were arguments—plenty of them. I was under so much pressure to step up and be the provider, but for whatever reason, finding another job in the middle of all that didn’t happen.

Banke: I’d just gotten a promotion at work before I discovered the pregnancy, and suddenly, I was facing this huge life change. My friends, even my mum, advised an abortion. But when I talked to Muyiwa about it, he was clear about how he felt. He wanted to keep the baby, and honestly, his determination affected me. He had this sense of commitment that made me rethink my own stance.

What made you so sure at the time, Muyiwa?

Muyiwa: I grew up with traditional values, and part of me felt we had a responsibility to give our child a chance. I knew I had to support her in whatever decision she made, but I also wanted to make it clear that I was in this fully. I think deep down, we both felt a sense of duty and connection that made us lean towards keeping the baby.

Banke: It wasn’t just about what Muyiwa wanted; the idea of going through with an abortion wasn’t something I took lightly. It felt like it would leave a permanent mark on me psychologically. I also worried about how it might affect my relationship with Muyiwa. I didn’t want us to have that kind of conflict or regret hanging over us.

When did the idea of moving in together come in?

Muyiwa: It started with the fact that she lived with housemates because her family is still back in Nigeria. 

When she was around six months pregnant, the reality of managing everything—like doctor’s appointments, preparing for the baby, and just everyday life—started to hit us. She was still working, and we realised that juggling everything from two different places was becoming impractical. 

One evening, after a particularly stressful day of trying to balance all the errands, we had a serious conversation about our situation. I brought up the idea of moving in together, mostly because it seemed like the most practical solution. 

Banke: He really wanted us to support each other more directly. He wanted to be more involved in our baby’s life without the added stress of commuting or coordinating visits. 

It wasn’t exactly a romantic decision. We didn’t really have the luxury of taking our time to make it a “big” decision with all the planning and excitement of a typical move-in. It was more about getting things done and setting up a home base where we could both be present for our daughter.

Why does it sound like you were more focused on being parents than being a couple?

Banke: Actually, that’s what it was like for some time. Our relationship still feels a lot more domestic than romantic today, but it’s become a healthy balance.

I was initially hesitant because moving in together before marriage felt unconventional, and I was worried about how it would look to our families and friends. But as Muyiwa said, the timing and circumstances forced our hand. We needed to make it work for the sake of the baby and our own sanity. 

Muyiwa: I also wanted her to move from her apartment she shared with housemates. We started looking for somewhere that was reasonably close to where she worked so she wouldn’t have to commute too far, and that had enough space for a growing family. It was a whirlwind of decisions—finding a place, moving, and setting up a nursery—all while managing work and the stress of impending parenthood. 

I remember constantly thinking, “Is this really how we’re starting our family?” This was before I lost my job and things became a lot tougher.

Tell me about that

Banke: It was like the ground fell out from under us. I was trying to recover from childbirth, and now, we had to figure out how to keep our lives together with one income.

Muyiwa: After I got laid off, I felt like a failure—especially after encouraging us to keep the baby, and then, move into a bigger apartment on a good side of town. I couldn’t even tell Banke right away because I was embarrassed. When I finally did, I could see the worry on her face, but she didn’t freak out. Instead, she just asked, “What do we do now?” 

What did you do?

Muyiwa: I was job-hunting for a while. In the meantime, I stayed home on baby duties so we could save on daycare and nannies.

Banke: His mum was able to stay with us for the first month, but we were on our own after. So we kind of fell into the pattern of him staying home and handling chores. 

Muyiwa: It wasn’t easy for me to accept that she’d be the one going back to work while I stayed home. In our society, that’s not what’s expected of a man, and I struggled with it. But we had to make a decision quickly because we had a baby to take care of. There wasn’t time to sit around feeling sorry for ourselves.

I can imagine this affected your relationship even further?

Banke: We argued a lot during that time. I was a little resentful—why did I have to have so much responsibility now, right when my career was taking off? And I know Muyiwa felt guilty about losing his job. There was this tension between us, like we were trying to hold on to some sense of normalcy, but everything was changing so fast. 

Muyiwa: We didn’t sit down and calmly discuss our options; it was more like we were reacting to each crisis as it came. I think we just made the decisions we had to make to survive, even if it meant turning everything we knew about relationships on its head.

Banke: And even now, it’s not always smooth sailing. There are days when I feel the weight of being the breadwinner, and days when Muyiwa struggles with not fitting into that traditional male role. We’re still figuring it out as we go, and it’s far from perfect.

So you decided to stick to this dynamic longterm?

Muyiwa: As our daughter grew, I realised that being at home allowed me to build a strong bond with her, which is something I couldn’t trade for anything. It’s not just about taking care of a baby; it’s about being present, involved, and providing a stable environment for her to grow up in.

Banke’s career is doing so well. I’d never ask her to give that up so our daughter can have a present parent. I decided to take that up myself.

Banke: When Muyiwa first took on the stay-at-home role, I felt relieved because it meant one less thing for me to worry about. I could focus on my job and provide for our family without having to juggle everything on my own. 

Sounds like a “but” is coming…

Banke: But there’s a part of me that feels guilty for being the primary breadwinner. I know it sounds strange, but I’ve had to confront my own insecurities about being the one who’s “bringing home the bacon”. There’s a lot of judgement about women who out-earn their partners. 

Muyiwa: But I contribute. I still have freelance and side gigs, but the focus is no longer on chasing a full-time role.

Banke: I also sometimes feel that his role as a stay-at-home dad is undervalued by others, and that affects how I see our situation. I worry about him feeling sidelined or less important when his role is crucial to our family’s well-being. It’s hard not to feel that there’s a stigma attached to it, both from society and within ourselves.

What pushbacks have you experienced from society so far?

Muyiwa: Oh, there have been quite a few. 

One specific scenario that stands out is a family wedding we attended a few months back. I was there with Banke, and we were discussing our daughter’s milestones. My uncle, who’s always been a traditionalist, asked me directly, “So, what are you doing with yourself now? Still at home?” 

It wasn’t just the question; it was the tone—almost like he was questioning my manhood. It was uncomfortable, and I felt this wave of embarrassment. I could see Banke getting angry, and she tried to deflect the conversation, but the damage was done. 

Banke: During a meeting at work early this year, a colleague asked about my family. When I mentioned that Muyiwa was at home taking care of our daughter, their reaction was almost comical in its disbelief. They couldn’t understand why I was the one working while my partner stayed home. 

The questions started rolling in—“Isn’t he trying to find a job?” or “How do you manage with him not working?” It felt like people were looking for a reason to justify our arrangement, as if it couldn’t possibly be a legitimate choice.

Muyiwa: Then there’s the more subtle stuff, like when people make offhand comments about how “nice” it must be for me to not have to work. It’s this kind of dismissive attitude that implies my role is somehow less valuable because it doesn’t come with a paycheck. 

I’ve also encountered some judgement from friends who’ve expressed surprise that I’m “okay” with being a stay-at-home dad. They often assume there’s something wrong or that I’m not ambitious, which couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s a strange kind of scrutiny that’s hard to explain.

People don’t like “different”

Banke: I think it’s also a thing where this generation only glorifies capitalism. Anything slightly domestic is always looked down on because, trust me, if I was the one as a woman staying home, they’d still say my husband is squashing my potential. 

Muyiwa: Meanwhile, it’s kind of a privilege for us to be able to afford to prioritise our daughter this way.

Actually

Banke: There was this time I ran into an old friend from university. She knew about my career success but was shocked to hear that Muyiwa was at home. And she asked if everything was okay at home. The judgement is often veiled in concern.

Muyiwa: There’s a lot of subtle but pervasive pressure to fit into a mould, and it’s exhausting to constantly navigate those expectations while trying to make the best decisions for our family. Because this actually works great for all three of us; we’re actually fine.

What are the biggest challenges you’ve faced since settling into this dynamic?

Banke: Beyond the constant need to justify our arrangement or prove that it’s working well, there’s the juggling act of managing my career, being present for our daughter as well, and supporting Muyiwa emotionally.

Muyiwa: Another challenge is dealing with the impact on our relationship. 

Banke: Oh yes. 

Let’s talk about that

Banke: There are days when I come home from work and feel like I’m expected to pick up where Muyiwa left off, even though I’m exhausted. It’s also tough to find a balance between being supportive and not falling into a role where I feel like I’m doing everything. 

It’s a constant negotiation of who does what and ensuring that both of us feel valued and understood.

Muyiwa: There’s also navigating our parents’ reactions and dealing with their constant questions about marriage, when we’re going to have our second kid…

Exactly what my next question was. What’s the plan for these things now that things have seemingly settled?

Muyiwa: We’ve discussed marriage as something we’d like to do eventually, not just for ourselves but also for our daughter’s sense of stability. However, we want to make sure that when we do get married, it’s because we’re ready and not just trying to meet societal expectations.

Banke: We’ve seen too many couples rush into marriage for the wrong reasons, and we want to avoid that. We didn’t quite get the chance to be ready for that when our little girl came into the picture. We’re more focused on building a strong foundation for our family and making sure that when we do decide to marry, it’s not just because of her.

So no expanding the family right now, I guess

Banke: No, and we’ve been very careful with precautions! 

We’ve talked about it, but we’re also trying to stabilise our situation and make sure we’re both in a good place before considering adding another member to our family. We want to be sure that we can give any future children the attention and resources they deserve, just like our daughter, without stretching ourselves too thin.

Muyiwa: I mean, we’re still adjusting to our current dynamic; adding another child would be a big decision most likely for after marriage.

What was your first major fight about?

Muyiwa: We haven’t had any major fights.

Banke: Neither of us has the personality for a blown-out fight. We’re much too level-headed.

Muyiwa: But we’ve had our share of arguments, especially when we’re both exhausted after a long day. We have to remind ourselves that this is a work in progress, and we’re both learning how to make this work.

Banke: Despite all that, I do appreciate what Muyiwa brings to our family. He’s been amazing with our daughter, and seeing the bond they share makes me realise that this arrangement is so beneficial.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your Love Life?

Muyiwa: 4. Do I love her? Yes. Do I love where our intimacy is at right now? Not at all.

Banke: I’d rate it around a 5. There are definitely aspects of our love life we’re struggling with, but there’s still a foundation of love, effort and mutual respect I find invaluable.

ANOTHER ONE: We Strongly Believe in Different Religions 

What’s your earliest memory of each other?

Nneka: We met at a lounge in 2022. I was out with some friends, trying to unwind after a long week. Daniel was there, taking photos for an event that was happening on the side. I noticed him because he was really into it — like he was capturing something more than just faces. There was this confidence about him, and well, I found him incredibly attractive. 

I’m not usually one to approach someone, but I decided to make the first move that night. I asked him if he could take a picture of me and my friends, and we started talking from there.

Daniel: I remember that night clearly. When she asked me to take her picture, I wanted to tell her I was working, but I could tell she was interested in more than just the photo. We started chatting, and she was upfront about what she wanted. 

Her honesty caught me off guard, but in a good way. We exchanged numbers, and things took off from there. It was clear from the start that this would be more about mutual benefits than love, and we were both fine with that.

What has kept this relationship going?

Nneka: Honestly, it’s his looks. I won’t pretend that wasn’t the first thing that caught my eye. 

After my divorce in 2021, I wasn’t looking for anything serious, just someone who could bring some excitement back into my life. And Daniel does that—he’s young, fit, and knows how to keep things interesting. What keeps me around is the fact that he fulfils my needs without any of the emotional baggage that comes with a traditional relationship. 

Daniel: Being a photographer in Lagos isn’t easy, and I’ve always had to hustle to make ends meet. With Nneka, it’s straightforward— she takes care of me, and I make sure she’s happy. I respect her, and I do care about her, but I know what this relationship is, and I’m fine with that. I’ve got goals, and being with her moves me closer to achieving them.

So what exactly happened after that first meeting?

Nneka: I reached out to him the next day. We met up for lunch, and that’s when we really laid everything out on the table. He was open about his situation, telling me about his work and how tough things were. We both knew what we wanted and agreed to give it a try.

Daniel: That lunch was when things got real. After that, we started seeing each other regularly. She’d help me out financially, and in return, I made sure she got the attention and company she wanted.

Neat. How has that worked out?

Daniel: Things moved quickly. We settled into a routine — dinners out, occasional weekend getaways and regular late-night meet-ups at her place. It was convenient and uncomplicated. 

Nneka: Over time, I think we’ve started to care about each other more than I expected, but we both keep it in check.

Daniel: We have a good thing going, and neither of us wants to complicate it. We don’t bother with labels or try to make it into something it’s not. It’s been almost three years now, and we’ve managed to keep things steady by staying honest about what this relationship is — and what it isn’t.

How does the financial part work?

Daniel: It’s not just about giving me cash or paying for our outings, even though that definitely happens too. 

She helped me upgrade my photography gear, which was a big deal for me. When we first met, I was using a pretty basic setup, which was holding me back. Nneka saw potential in my work and didn’t hesitate to invest in better equipment. She bought me a new camera, lenses, and even helped me set up a small studio space. She also covered some of my living expenses, taking a lot of pressure off me. 

Nneka: In return, I expect him to be available whenever I need him, whether it’s to accompany me to events or just spend time with me. He also has to keep himself in shape and make sure he always looks good.

Daniel: But she’s so generous. She’s given me money to help my family out a couple of times before. She doesn’t just think about me—she knows I have responsibilities, and has been willing to support me in fulfilling them.

Do you ever feel conflicted about being in a transactional relationship?

Nneka: Not really. I was married for 27 years, and I spent eight of those years estranged from my ex-husband. I’ve dealt with all the complications that come with love and commitment. 

With Daniel, there’s no pretending. There’s no pressure to be anything more than what we are to each other, and it’s been refreshing. It’s about fulfilling needs—mine are more physical, and his are more financial. It works for us.

Daniel: I grew up in a tough environment; money has always been a big deal. I’ve dated younger women, but the stress of trying to build something real while struggling financially wasn’t worth it. I’ve been with other older women too, but they will stress you? With Nneka, I’m able to focus on my career, and that’s what matters to me right now. 

Maybe someday, I’ll look for something more. But for now, this is what I need.

Do your family or friends know about this?

Daniel: Mostly no. But of course, my best friend knows. 

We’ve known each other since secondary school, so he’s seen me go through a lot. When I first told him about it, he wasn’t too bothered. But he’s recently started questioning my choices.

Nneka: Maybe he didn’t realise we’d be together for so long.

Have you met this friend, Nneka?

Nneka: No. I’m curious to hear about this myself.

Daniel: One time, we were out drinking, and he just kept saying things like, “Man, you’re wasting your youth. What’s going to happen when she gets tired of you? Are you just going to hop from one sugar mummy to another?” He was worried that I’d get used to the easy money and never want to work hard again.

I tried to explain that it wasn’t just about the money — Nneka is helping me build my future. He literally said I was letting myself be “kept,” like I was some sort of toy for an older woman’s amusement. We’ve made up since then sha.

What about you, Nneka, do your people know?

Nneka: I’ve been very selective about who I tell and how much I share, but some things inevitably come out.

One of the more challenging conversations was with my eldest daughter, who lives abroad. She called me one evening and asked me why I was with someone so much younger—she’d heard from my lastborn who’s in a Nigerian boarding school. She was concerned that he’d just take advantage of me and steal my money. 

Daniel: Meanwhile, she gives it freely.

Right?

Nneka: My close circle of friends have been even more critical. One of them is in a similar relationship. But another friend, in particular, is very traditional and can’t grasp why we’d be involved with younger men. At a recent dinner party, she made a comment about my “mid-life crisis” and implied that I was being foolish for dating someone who was clearly using me.

Daniel: I’ve met this particular friend, and she’s always so nice to me. I don’t even get.

Nneka: These conversations haven’t been easy, but I’ve tried to stay firm in my choice. I know people have their opinions, but this relationship works for me right now. It’s not about fitting into societal norms but about finding what suits my current needs and circumstances.

Any chance this relationship could evolve into something more serious?

Nneka: I doubt it. I’m not looking to get married again or start another family. I’ve done all that. We’ve been together for two years, and while we care for each other, I know he’s not in this for love. When the time comes to move on, we’ll do so without any hard feelings. I’m enjoying the present, and that’s enough for me.

Daniel: Like I said, I have goals. I’m using this time to build my career and save up. Eventually, I’ll want to move on and focus on something more permanent. But right now, this relationship gives me the stability I need. When I’m ready, I’ll figure out the next step.

How do you balance the power dynamic?

Nneka: We’ve developed a mutual respect over time. I don’t try to control him, and he’s not greedy. He knows that as long as he keeps me happy, I’ll keep supporting him. We’ve both agreed to those terms.

Daniel: It’s all about understanding the rules. I know what Nneka expects, and I deliver. In return, she makes sure I’m taken care of. It’s not a typical relationship, but it’s honest. I don’t feel powerless because I know my value in this dynamic. We communicate openly about our needs and boundaries, and that’s why it works.

Is there an actual contract signed somewhere?

Nneka: Nothing formal like that. It’s an unspoken agreement between us. I know that might sound risky, but we’ve managed to maintain a balance because we both have something to lose if things go south.

He’s never tried to push for more than what we’ve agreed upon. He’s respectful of my space, my time, and my family. And honestly, I’m not naive — I’ve been around long enough to see when someone is trying to play me. Daniel hasn’t shown any signs of that. He’s been consistent, and that gives me confidence.

Daniel: I know how good I have it. I wouldn’t risk losing this by overstepping. There’s no formal contract, but we’ve had enough conversations to know where we stand.

I also know that if I tried to take advantage of her, it would backfire sha. She’s smart, experienced, and she has connections that could make my life difficult. So I stick to our arrangement because it’s beneficial for both of us.

Have you ever felt emotional pressure within the relationship?

Daniel: There have been times when I felt the weight of expectations. When you’re with someone older and wealthier, there’s always the unspoken pressure to be perfect and meet their needs. It’s not always easy. We’ve had our share of arguments and misunderstandings, but we’ve also grown stronger because of them.

Nneka: There are moments when the financial dynamics come into play. Sometimes, it’s like I’m the one in control because I provide the money. But Daniel contributes emotionally, creatively, and by being there for me in ways money can’t buy.

What are some common misconceptions about the glucose guardian-glucose issue situation?

Nneka: That it’s all about sex and money? 

Okay, I know ours sounds exactly like that, but that’s not the full picture. While the financial aspect is significant, there’s still genuine respect and care. Another misconception is that the younger person is always being exploited, but it’s more nuanced than that. Relationships, no matter their nature, are complex.

Daniel: I’d add that people often think we have nothing in common, or that we’re fundamentally incompatible because of the age gap. But that’s not true. Nneka and I share many interests—art, travel, and even some business ventures. Also, people underestimate the support and growth that can come from it. She’s been instrumental in my career, offering guidance and opportunities I might never have had otherwise.

I know you said “nothing serious”, but how else do you see your relationship evolving in the future?

Nneka: I try not to think far ahead because life is unpredictable. But we’ve talked about some long-term plans, like travelling more and maybe even starting a small business together. Whatever happens, I know we have a deep bond that’ll carry us through—even if it’s not a romantic bond.

Daniel: I agree.

You also said something about arguments and misunderstandings. What was your first major fight about?

Nneka: Things had been going smoothly up until maybe five months into the relationship. 

We’d planned to spend the weekend at a resort, and I was looking forward to it because I needed a break from work and everything else. But he cancelled at the last minute on the day we were supposed to leave,  saying a “job” came up. He didn’t give me any details. I was furious because I had already made all the arrangements.

Daniel: It was actually a last-minute opportunity to shoot an event for a high-profile client. I’d been waiting for them to get back to me for several months. It was a big deal for me, something that could open doors and help my business grow. I couldn’t explain well because I was already panicking over the impromptu logistics for the job.

Did things escalate badly?

Nneka: Yes. I accused him of being unreliable and not taking our relationship seriously. I remember saying something like, “If our arrangement was a real job, you wouldn’t just cancel last minute. Why should it be any different?” I was hurt because with my ex-husband, I always felt second to his work, and I wasn’t about to let that happen again.

Daniel: I felt like Nneka didn’t understand my situation. I tried to explain this to her later on, but she wasn’t hearing it. She kept saying I should have told the client no, that I’d already made plans with her and I should’ve respected those plans. I remember accusing her of wanting me to be dependent on her so I wouldn’t have any other options. 

How did the relationship move past that?

Nneka: We didn’t speak for a few days, which was unusual because we were used to talking every day by then. 

Eventually, I reached out, and we met up to talk things through. We agreed we needed to be clearer about our expectations and boundaries. He had to understand that, while I was willing to support him, I needed to be a priority too. 

Daniel: When she reached out, I felt happy that she valued me. I wasn’t completely satisfied with the resolution. Sure, we talked things through, and I said all the right things. But deep down, I felt a bit cornered. The whole situation made me realise just how much power dynamics were at play in our relationship, and I had to be more serious. 

I decided I didn’t want to rock the boat and risk losing everything I had gained by being with her. I told myself that as long as I could build my career and eventually stand on my own two feet, I’d be okay with making some compromises. 

That’s why I said I know my value in this dynamic.

Nneka: Since then, we’ve had other disagreements, but that first major fight set the tone for how we handle conflicts.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your Love Life?

Daniel: It’s probably a 7. I enjoy our time together—sex, conversations, all-round enjoyment. We care about each other. We’re both getting something we want. But it also feels a lot like a situationship, so I don’t feel settled. 

So yeah, a 7 feels about right.

Nneka: Based on that, I’d say it’s around a 6. 

He knows how to make me feel young and alive, which is something I’ve missed for a long time. But it’s not the deep, emotional connection I once had in my marriage.  It’s good, but it’s not perfect.

READ THIS NEXT: I Met Him Through a Radio Show as a 40+ Single Mum

We often get invited to some pretty cool events. But when I received an impromptu invitation to “Get Ready with Music”, an influencer slumber party organised by Spotify and Maybelline, I knew this would be extra special. It promised a unique blend of music and makeup, tapping into the GRWM trend that’s taken over social media. 

The event on Thursday, July 25, 2024, was set to celebrate the powerful synergy between sound and style.

I arrived from Surulere for check-in at the Art Hotel at 2:50 pm — Lagos traffic was light, thank God. The three-year-old gem was the visual delight it promised in its name, large canvases, intricate sculptures and dangling multimedia pieces installed everywhere. I was shown up to my room and immediately received a welcome mixed grill platter.

The room was both spacious and cosy, setting the tone for what lay ahead. I’d dressed for the event at home, so I spent the next five hours watching Netflix movies with my plus one, soaking in the ambiance and excitement.

The event kicked off with a dinner at 8 pm, hosted by an approachable duo in the Big Brother Naija star, Saskay (Tsakute Jonah), and fashion influencer, Nimiie (Ifeoluwa Ogunjebe). From the elevator, we were welcomed into an open foyer where Spotify and Maybelline branded photo booths awaited us. 

Servers in livery were on hand to hand us bubbly flutes from their black trays. As I sipped on champagne adorned with pretty faux eyelashes and a lipstick stain, I remembered my “no alcohol for a year” challenge. Alas, seven months of progress were gone in three sips! 

After several photos with props at the booth, we saw our way into the dinner hall, a long central table set for 30 or more, with burning candles, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere.

It was a three-course affair, accompanied by a live performance from Qing Madi, who blessed us with hits like “Ole” — she rapped BNXN’s part, “American Love” and “See Finish.” Her soulful voice and occasional positive affirmation of how beautiful her audience looked, set the perfect backdrop for the evening. As the dinner progressed, the energy only grew, with DJ TGARBS taking over to keep us dancing late into the night.

At 10:41 pm, we returned to our rooms to find surprise gift boxes waiting for us on the bed. Inside were presents from the organisers: a Spotify selfie stick, a Maybelline leather bag filled with makeup products, and a cute ivory Spotify-branded silk pyjama set. We changed into the PJs and headed back to the hall, now transformed into a slumber party paradise with dim pastel lights, fake fog, bean bags, a dessert stand, and a karaoke machine.

From 11:30 p.m. to 2 a.m., it was all fun and games as everyone’s champagne flutes stayed filled and wooden rows of tequila shots followed. I promise I stuck to my bottle of iced water through it all. We danced, laughed and shot content for the ‘gram. 

The highlight was the karaoke session, with Big Brother Naija star, Vee Iye nailing “My Boo” by Usher and Alicia Keys, and queen of fashion influencing, Nonye Udeogu (This Thing Called Fashion), bringing down the house with “BedRock” by Lil Wayne and his Young Money crew. 

When it was finally my turn, I chose my go-to karaoke song, “Happier Than Ever” by Billie Eilish. But Saskay came over to let me know, unfortunately, our fun time with Spotify and Maybelline had come to an end. My opportunity to show the world my true talent, gone! 

We returned to our room once more and slept soundly.

It wasn’t just fun, though. It was also  about exploring how music influences makeup application, style choices and overall mood. The GRWM trend has taken social media by storm, showing how people around the world use music to enhance their beauty routines. The data shared by Spotify highlights this fascinating intersection:

Over 900 playlists in Nigeria and 900k globally with titles like GRWM, Get Ready With Me, Makeup and Get Ready with Music. In 2024 alone, over 280,000 playlists globally and over 400 in Nigeria were created with these themes. Lagos alone accounted for over 300 of these. The most popular day to stream GRWM playlists globally, in Nigeria, Abuja, and Lagos is Saturday. The peak times are 4 pm globally, 11 am and 12 pm in Abuja, 11 am in Nigeria, and in Lagos.

Interestingly, male listeners create more GRWM playlists than females. The 18-24 age group leads in Lagos, Abuja, and Nigeria, while globally, the 35-44 age group dominates playlist creation. Gen Z and female listeners dominate the audience across all regions, with the 18-24 age group leading in Lagos, Abuja, Nigeria, and globally.

These statistics reveal a lot about how intertwined music and beauty routines have become. Music is not just background noise; the “Get Ready with Music” event by Spotify and Maybelline beautifully captured this essence, demonstrating the transformative power of combining music with daily makeup routines.

As I reflect on the experience, I realise how this collaboration between Spotify and Maybelline created an immersive experience that celebrates this powerful synergy. It’s a reminder of how influential music can be in our daily lives. It was a celebration of creativity, individuality, and the joy of getting ready. 

As we continue to see the rise of the GRWM trend, it’s clear that music and makeup will remain intertwined, each enhancing the other in beautiful and unexpected ways. It was great to be a part of this event showcasing how Spotify and Maybelline are innovatively engaging with the vibrant beauty and music communities in Lagos. 

Cheers to more nights of beauty, beats and unforgettable memories.

What’s your earliest memory of each other?

Karena: We met in 2017 at a Nigerian cultural event in Toronto. We’d both lived in Canada for about a year by then. I was there with friends, feeling a bit homesick and looking to connect with fellow Nigerians. 

Tsola caught my eye because he seemed a bit out of place, fidgeting and avoiding eye contact. But there was something interesting about him.

Tsola: Yeah, that event was a tough one for me. Crowds and new social situations tend to trigger my OCD. 

When Karena approached me, I was initially apprehensive. But she had this warm, reassuring presence that made me feel at ease. We started talking about Nigeria, our favourite foods, and how we both missed home.

Tsola, did you tell her about your OCD right away?

Tsola: No. 

Opening up to her was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. It was about three months into our relationship before that happened. We were spending some time together at my apartment, and I was anxious that evening. 

Karena: I thought we’d gotten comfortable with each other. We really bonded over shared Nigerian experiences because, coincidentally, we both lived in Port Harcourt. That was an immediate green flag for me. We’d talk Trans Amadi gist for hours like we knew each other in Nigeria. He came across as very self-assured. I already liked him a lot. 

So I was concerned that he was suddenly behaving shifty. It was the first time I’d visited his place too; I was a little paranoid.

How did it come out?

Tsola: I saw how uncomfortable my discomfort was making her, and I hated it. So as we ate dinner, I randomly brought up how I have these intrusive thoughts that make me feel like something terrible will happen unless I perform certain rituals. The whole time, I was terrified she’d think I was crazy and leave.

Karena: I could see how scared he was to tell me. It broke my heart to see him so vulnerable. When he finished explaining, I took his hand and told him I loved him and his OCD didn’t change that. I didn’t know what I was saying.

We spent the rest of the night talking about his experiences. I didn’t fully understand what he was going through, but I was determined to learn and support him.

Was the relationship already official?

Karena: At least a month before then, it felt official already. But even if it wasn’t, that was the day we agreed to be exclusive. 

Tsola: Maybe before that was still the talking stage, but I think we knew we liked each other and wanted to date from early on.

What was the relationship like after this big reveal?

Karena: One of the biggest challenges has been understanding that OCD isn’t something that can be easily fixed or ignored. There have been times when I’ve felt frustrated and helpless, especially when his compulsions interfere with our daily life, which they do a lot. 

For instance, we’ve had to leave social gatherings early because Tsola felt overwhelmed. I’m an ambivert, so it hasn’t been all bad. But sometimes, I feel like I’m walking on eggshells to avoid triggering his anxiety.

Tsola: When I notice her overcompensating for my triggers without being able to do anything about it is when I feel the worst, TBH. 

I’ve been in therapy for years, and I’ve tried various medications with varying degrees of success. Some days are better than others, but there are times when it feels like I’m drowning in my compulsions. Those are the days when I struggle the most, and it takes a toll on our relationship.

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Tell me about it

Karena: There was a particularly difficult period last year. He was constantly worried about contamination and would wash his hands until they were red and raw. It affected our intimacy, our routine, everything. I felt like I was losing him. 

We had some heated arguments because I didn’t know how to help him, and he felt guilty for putting me through it.

How have you guys been able to come this far together?

Tsola: She’s been my rock, but there have been times when I’ve pushed her away because I felt like a burden. 

I remember one time when I couldn’t touch anything in my apartment without feeling contaminated. She tried to comfort me, but I snapped at her. I felt horrible afterward, but at that moment, the anxiety was too overwhelming.

Karena: We’ve had many conversations about how to handle his OCD. We’ve learnt to set boundaries. For example, we have designated areas in both his and my apartment where I can go to calm down when I feel overwhelmed. 

It’s not perfect, but it helps.

Were there times when you considered breaking up?

Karena: Before I met Tsola, my relationships were more straightforward, but also less deep and less meaningful. Maybe it’s the trap we women fall for where we see saving a flawed man as a challenge. That’s what my sister keeps telling me anyway. 

I don’t know, but this relationship feels more high stakes because I feel the most emotional attached I’ve ever felt before. 

Tsola: I hid my OCD from most of my exes as best as I could because I was afraid they wouldn’t understand or would leave me. This secrecy created a lot of stress and prevented genuine intimacy. With Kar, I felt safe enough to be open about my struggles, which has been both challenging and incredibly freeing. 

Also, my past partners tried to be understanding, but they didn’t fully grasp the extent of things. Kar has gone out of her way to educate herself about OCD and to support me in ways I never experienced before. 

I’ve tried to talk her out of me, but I myself can’t imagine breaking up with her.

Talk her out of you?

Tsola: I always have this phase when I feel like a burden to everyone and just want to figure out my struggles on my own. Sometimes, I’d tell her that maybe she’s better off without me.

Karena: The first time we had that conversation was one of the hardest we’ve ever had. I was heartbroken that he felt that way, but I also understood where he was coming from. It was a wake-up call. We stayed apart for a week and some days. 

But then, we met up again and realised we needed to find better ways to support each other and take care of ourselves.

Did you find better ways?

Tsola: We decided to go to therapy together, and it made a huge difference. There are still tough days, but it’s helped us live through moments without feeling like we‘re losing ourselves to each other.

Karena: There was another tough period about three years into our relationship when Tsola’s compulsions were at their worst. I was lonely because OCD can be an invisible wall between us, making it hard to connect on a normal, everyday level.

Once, I tried to hug him to offer some comfort, but he flinched and stepped back, fearing that physical contact would spread contamination. That rejection, even though I knew it wasn’t personal, stung deeply. I thought about whether I could handle this for the rest of my life. I started questioning whether I was sacrificing too much of my own happiness and well-being, so I asked my close friends.

Did they know about his OCD? What did they say?

Karena: Just two of my friends that Tsola was comfortable with knowing about it. They actually suggested the couples therapy we’re currently taking. But not all my friends who know bits and pieces of the situation are so understanding. A few have expressed concern about the toll the relationship is taking on me.

Tsola: When Karena tells me about the conversations she’s had with her friends, I have mixed feelings. On one hand, I hate the fact that I’m being talked about. I can’t help the sting of insecurity and guilt sometimes. It makes me confront my fears that I’m dragging her down and maybe she deserves someone who doesn’t come with so much baggage.

Right

Tsola: When one friend asked if she could see herself living like this for the rest of her life, it hit me like a punch to the gut. I didn’t want to be the reason she felt unhappy or overwhelmed.

But I’m also happy she has a tight support system. I have one too with three of my friends, and I know how sane and grounded it makes me feel after what I’ve gone through with my parents and sisters in the past. 

Karena: But it’s not just about dealing with the bad days; when the days are good, they’re really good. He’s one of the most thoughtful and caring people I know. His OCD has good sides too because he’s incredibly attentive to details and remembers the little things that matter to me, like my favourite snacks or the way I like my coffee. He has it down to a science.

That sounds nice

Karena: Yes. His ability to be present and attentive has brought a lot of joy and comfort to my life.

Tsola: She’s funny, and she knows how to make me laugh even on my worst days — which is hard. It’s also been great having someone I know I can trust with important decisions when my brain cripples me with overthinking.

What’s next for your relationship?

Karena: We’ve definitely talked about moving in together, getting married and even having kids. It’s something we both want, but we’re also very aware of the challenges.

Tsola: We actually plan to move in together next year. It’s a big step, and we know it would bring a new set of challenges. 

We’ve discussed setting up routines and boundaries to help manage this. Specific areas designated for certain activities, like a clean area where I can feel safe, and working together to keep those spaces organised.

Neat

Karena: We’ll have a professional cleaner come in regularly to help maintain the place without it all falling on either of us. This could reduce the stress and potential conflict around household chores.

Tsola: Having kids is something we both dream about, but it’s also the area where my OCD might present the biggest challenge. We had a pregnancy scare in 2021 when we forced ourselves to discuss it extensively.

Karena: It’ll probably be individual and couples therapy for the rest of our lives, but I think that’s a great thing for us, OCD or no. We need to keep working on our communication skills and coping mechanisms. As we move forward, we’ll make sure we’re as prepared as possible for the ups and downs.

What did that extensive conversation about kids entail?

Karena: Educating ourselves on parenting with OCD, seeking advice from professionals, and possibly joining support groups. We want to be proactive in finding ways to ensure that our children grow up in a loving and stable environment.

It’s scary, but I think we’ll be fine.

Tsola: The most important thing to me is that we’re both happy and healthy, as husband and wife, as parents, whatever. I’m willing to put in the work. 

Karena: We’re also realistic about the fact that we might need to adjust our plans based on how things progress. I’m keeping an open mind.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your Love Life?

Karena: 8. Overall, I feel incredibly loved and supported, and I know we both put in the work to keep our connection.

Tsola: Yeah, 8. I feel incredibly loved and supported. I feel very lucky to have her.

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